Sports day was everything Ping wished he could disappear from.
The field was loud, crowded, and full of energy he didn't have.
Students ran, shouted, and cheered; the whistle of teachers mingled with the pounding of sneakers against the track. Every event drew attention, every corner seemed alive with motion, and Ping felt painfully out of place.
He lingered at the edge of the stands, hoping no one would notice him long enough for the day to pass.
His hands were tucked nervously into his lap as he watched his classmates run relay races, leap hurdles, and throw javelins.
He admired them quietly-he always admired the physicality, the confidence-but the thought of joining in made his chest tighten.
He wasn't physically strong. He knew that better than anyone. Every day, he reminded himself that this was fine. That being small, quiet, careful, didn't make him weak-it just made him... him.
Lost in thought, he didn't notice someone stopping in front of him.
"What are you thinking about?"
Ping startled slightly, looking up.
"P'Keng," he said softly.
Keng crouched a little so they were eye level, his expression calm but curious, eyes studying him like he always did.
There was a light breeze, tossing strands of Keng's hair, sunlight catching the tips just so.
Ping couldn't help but notice it, and he felt his chest tighten.
"You haven't joined anything yet?"
Keng asked gently.
Ping shook his head.
"I... I don't really want to. It's a waste of my little strength."
Keng snorted quietly, teasing,
"No wonder you look so small. You should work out more."
Ping frowned, about to retort, but Keng straightened, and suddenly his teasing turned serious.
"Why don't you play basketball with me?" Keng asked.
"Basketball?" Ping echoed, startled.
"I don't even know how to play," Ping admitted quickly, voice small.
"I'll just slow you down."
"It's fine," Keng said easily, a calm certainty in his tone.
"I can teach you."
Before Ping could think of another excuse, Keng gently grabbed his wrist and pulled him along.
"W-wait...!"
Ping stammered, cheeks heating as he tried to keep up. They reached the basketball court where Keng's friends were already playing.
When Keng told them Ping would be joining, they weren't surprised. It was like they already knew.
"Keng, you brought little Ping?" Tao teased, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.
"Will our friend be able to concentrate today?" Bank added, snickering as he winked at Ping.
Keng rolled his eyes, grabbed a basketball, and without warning, tossed it gently at them.
"Playful enough?" he said with a smirk, hitting them just hard enough to make them dodge.
Ping watched, a little overwhelmed, a little amused, and... strangely, he was enjoying the teasing more than he expected.
They started slowly, passing the ball carefully, no real game, just motion.
Ping tried his best, following Keng's instructions, watching him closely, mimicking his movements.
He felt self-conscious with every bounce of the ball, but Keng's calm presence was like a warm shield.
Then it happened.
The ball came to him near the hoop. His heart pounded. He jumped, throwing the ball upward with all the strength he could muster.
It went in.
For a split second, Ping felt light-almost weightless.
Then he landed wrong. Pain shot through his ankle, sharp and immediate, stealing his breath.
He crumpled before he could catch himself, teeth clenching.
"Ping!" Keng rushed instantly.
He dropped the ball, knelt beside him, hands trembling slightly as he checked the injured ankle.
"Are you okay? Let me see-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked you to join."
"It's okay," Ping whispered, though the pain throbbed through him.
Without hesitation, Keng slipped one arm under Ping's knees and the other behind his back, lifting him carefully, as if he might break.
Ping stiffened.
Carried so close, he could feel Keng's warmth, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the strength in his arms holding him securely.
Instinctively, Ping looked up. Their faces were inches apart.
Too close.
His breath caught as his eyes met Keng's, deep and worried, fixed entirely on him. His heart raced wildly, and for a moment, he forgot about the pain in his ankle.
He wondered-
"could Keng hear it?"
" Could he feel how fast his heart was beating?"
All around them, eyes had stopped on their small scene. Students paused mid-laugh, mid-shout, whispers spreading across the court.
But Keng didn't notice, didn't care. Right now, the only thing that mattered was the weight in his arms, the tightness in his chest, and the boy he carried in it.
***
At the clinic, Keng stayed with Ping until the ankle was treated, standing nearby the entire time, gaze never leaving Ping's face.
Ping noticed every detail-the furrow of his brows, the slight clenching of his jaw, the careful way he spoke when asking if it hurt.
Trying to lighten the mood, Ping forced a small smile.
"P'Keng, you don't have to worry. I'm fine now. I could even play football, though I think being the goalkeeper is better for me."
Keng looked at him, unconvinced. Not amused, not distracted, only serious.
"I wouldn't forgive myself if you got hurt again," Keng said, low and earnest.
Ping's smile faded.
He saw it then-the way Keng's attention never wavered, the subtle tension in his shoulders, the intensity of concern that clung to him.
Somewhere along the way, something had shifted between them.
This closeness wasn't accidental anymore.
Keng was too close.
Too close for Ping to pretend he didn't feel it.
Too close for him to ignore it anymore.
And, maybe, just maybe... Ping didn't want to.