POV: Sun Suwannasuk Sawannakul
If life's a stage, I'm the headliner, the encore, the standing ovation.
But every show has a heckler.
Mine has a name.
Tee Teerawat Darunpakdee.
The guy who thinks he can outshine me with thrift-store swagger and grades that cut sharper than my stylist's scissors. He's not just annoying at this point. He's a problem. The kind that wasn't supposed to exist in my script.
And yet here he is.
It's Thursday. Third period.
Debate club.
The lecture hall is packed, way more than usual. Students filling the seats, teachers lingering at the back, even juniors sneaking in like this is some kind of show. Which, to be fair, it is.
The topic flashes on the screen:
Should social media be regulated to protect youth mental health?
I'm arguing for regulation. Obviously. Give me a cause that sounds noble and I'll make it sound necessary.
Tee's on the opposing side.
Of course he is.
I adjust my tie, smooth out the sleeve of my blazer, and let my gaze sweep the room. Phones are already out. People are whispering, waiting.
Moon sits in the front row, notebook open, pen already moving like she's preparing to document my victory in advance. Shine's a few seats away, arms crossed, eyes sharp. Watching. Waiting.
Good.
Let them watch.
I step forward when Ms. Pim calls my name. My posture straightens automatically, like my body knows exactly what to do without me thinking about it.
"Ladies and gentlemen," I start, voice steady, carrying easily across the room, "social media is a double-edged sword. It connects us, sure. But it's also a breeding ground for insecurity, cyberbullying, and mental health crises among youth."
A pause. Just enough.
"Regulation isn't censorship. It's protection. We need boundaries before we scroll ourselves into oblivion."
The reaction is instant. Applause, a few cheers, heads nodding like I just said something undeniable.
I sit back down, a small smile tugging at my lips as I glance at Tee.
Your move.
He stands without rushing. Hands in his pockets. No performance, no buildup. Like this isn't a room full of people waiting to see him fail.
"Regulation sounds noble," he says, voice calm, almost casual, "but it's a slippery slope to control. Social media's a tool. People choose how to use it."
A few murmurs ripple through the crowd.
"Blaming platforms for mental health issues is like blaming a knife for a bad chef. Teach people resilience. Not restrictions."
That gets them. I can feel it.
I lean back slightly, jaw tightening just a fraction.
He's good.
Annoyingly good.
The debate picks up pace after that. Back and forth, point after point. I bring up statistics—rising anxiety rates, studies linking excessive use to depression. He counters with free speech, individual responsibility, the danger of giving too much power to regulation.
Every argument I throw, he catches. Every jab, he answers.
It's not messy. It's clean. Controlled.
And I hate that.
Because I'm used to dominating rooms like this. Not sharing them.
Then he speaks again, tone shifting just slightly.
"Sun's argument assumes kids are too weak to handle a screen."
A pause.
"Maybe he's just projecting his own need for validation."
The room goes still.
Then—
Gasps.
Shine leans forward instantly, eyes lighting up like she's been waiting for exactly this. Moon frowns, her pen pausing mid-note.
My smile stays exactly where it is.
Polished. Perfect.
Inside, something snaps.
Projecting?
Me?
I lean forward slightly, resting my hands on the desk, voice smooth when I speak. Too smooth.
"Tee's cute when he tries to psychoanalyze," I say lightly. A few laughs follow. Good. Keep them on my side.
"But let's stick to facts."
I tilt my head, just enough.
"Studies show seventy percent of teens report feeling worse after using social media. If Tee thinks that's just 'weakness,' maybe he's the one out of touch."
A louder reaction this time. A few impressed murmurs.
I catch it.
That flicker in his eyes.
Not much. Barely there.
But it's something.
Good.
Ms. Pim calls time before anything else can escalate. The tension doesn't drop, though. It lingers, thick and sharp, like the air right before a storm breaks.
The judges take their time. Too much time. The room fills with quiet conversations, guesses, side comments.
I already know the outcome.
I should win.
I did everything right.
They finally stand. One of them clears their throat.
"This round… is a tie."
A tie.
For a second, I don't react.
Then it hits.
A tie?
The room groans, disappointed. But all I hear is that one word, repeating louder than it should.
Tie.
I don't tie.
I win.
I glance at Tee, expecting something. A smirk. A reaction. Anything.
He's already packing his things. Headphones slipping back around his neck like this meant nothing. Like I meant nothing.
That—
That gets under my skin more than losing ever could.
Class ends, people start moving, but I'm not letting this go.
I catch up to him in the hallway, my steps quick, deliberate.
"Hey, Teerawat."
My voice carries. Heads turn. Of course they do.
He stops, pulling one headphone off slowly. "What?"
No attitude. No curiosity. Just that same calm tone.
"That was a cheap shot," I say, stepping closer. "Projecting? Really? You think you know me?"
His eyes narrow slightly, but his expression doesn't change much. "I don't need to know you, Sun."
A small pause.
"You broadcast everything."
I let out a short laugh. Sharp. "And you hide everything like it makes you interesting."
I tilt my head, meeting his gaze properly this time.
"Newsflash. It doesn't. It's boring."
For a second—
Just a second—
Something shifts in his face. His jaw tightens slightly, like I hit something real.
There it is.
But then it's gone.
He shrugs, like it didn't matter, slipping his headphone back on.
"Whatever, Sun."
A beat.
"Keep shining."
And then he walks away.
Just like that.
No fight. No reaction. No closure.
I stand there longer than I should, my hands curling into fists at my sides. My heart's beating faster than it needs to.
I hate this.
I hate him.
I hate how he walks away like none of this affects him. Like I'm not even worth the effort.
And worse—
I hate that I noticed that small reaction. That tiny crack.
Because now I know it's there.
Moon's voice pulls me back. "You okay?"
Her hand rests lightly on my arm.
"You're practically glowing with rage."
I force a smile, pushing everything down where it belongs. "I'm fine, goddess."
I brush a hand through my hair, letting out a quiet breath.
"Just warming up for round two."
She studies me for a second longer than usual, like she doesn't fully believe that.
We start walking toward lunch, the noise of the hallway filling the space again. Normal. Predictable. Controlled.
But my thoughts stay stuck somewhere else.
On him.
On that moment in the debate.
On the way he said my name like it wasn't admiration.
Like it was a challenge.
He thinks he can step into my world and stand on the same level?
Let him try.
I don't lose my spotlight.
I don't share it either.
And if Tee Teerawat Darunpakdee wants to play this game—
Then I'll make sure he understands exactly who he's up against.
___