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Chapter Text

Tian, the newest member of the Perfect 10 Liners, had only been with them for two months, yet in that short time, he had noticed more than he ever expected to on his first day.

Arm, their senior and a fourth-year student, was the heart of the group. Always available, steady, and deeply devoted—to the team and to his boyfriend, who had already graduated but remained part of their circle. Arm carried himself with a quiet seriousness that could come across as brusque, but underneath it was a tenderness that defined him.

Then there were Yotha and Gun, both in their third year and complete opposites in every possible way. Gun was sunlight made human—his smile brightened not only his own face but the days of everyone around him. Beneath his cheerfulness, Tian often glimpsed surprising depth, though it was wrapped in a slightly oblivious innocence. Yotha, on the other hand, was Gun’s perfect counterbalance. If Gun was the sun, Yotha was his planet—drawn to him, orbiting around him, steady and protective. He was quiet, guarded, even blunt at times, yet when it came to the people he cared about, he was the first to step in without hesitation.

And then there were Faifa and Wine.

Faifa, also in his third year and Yotha’s younger brother by ten months, was the kind of person who filled a room just by walking into it. He was loud, charismatic, and effortlessly social—a natural people-pleaser who seemed to thrive on connection. Everyone knew him, and everyone liked him. He was always ready to offer a shoulder, a joke, or a hug to anyone who needed it.

But Tian had started to notice the cracks behind that warmth. The silences. The blank, unreadable expressions. The moments when Faifa looked troubled but refused help, as if accepting support would somehow betray the image he’d built. It puzzled Tian—until he saw how Faifa was with Wine.

With Wine, Faifa changed. He grew softer, quieter, and somehow more real. His smiles weren’t as bright but carried warmth; his hugs weren’t as showy but felt protective.

Wine, a second-year student, was Faifa’s opposite in nearly every sense. Reserved, observant, and self-contained, he rarely spoke unless he had something meaningful to say. Yet, around Faifa, he became unrecognizable—open, expressive, and even a little playful, his laughter ringing louder and his eyes shining brighter.

Tian often found himself watching them with a strange mix of admiration and curiosity. They seemed perfect for each other, bound by something deeper than affection—something like understanding. But that bond had also built a wall, a quiet, invisible barrier that kept everyone else at a distance.

And Tian, despite all his observations, couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d never really gotten to know them at all.

🔆

Faifa irritated him. After four months in the group, Tian had reached that conclusion about him.

It wasn’t that Faifa had ever done anything wrong—on the contrary, he was probably the kindest and most helpful senior Tian had. They studied the same field, electrical engineering, and Faifa had often gone out of his way to guide him, always with that easy smile of his.

No, what irritated Tian was the mystery. He couldn’t understand Faifa. Couldn’t reach him. No matter how hard he tried, it always felt like his hands brushed only the surface, never the person underneath. And for reasons Tian couldn’t quite explain, that frustrated him more than anything. He wanted to break through that calm, charming armor—to see the version of Faifa that Wine seemed to know and love.

No one seemed interested. No one seemed to really know Faifa.

Arm and Arc treated him like the group’s cheerful junior, the life of the party, but neither showed any real curiosity beyond that surface. Gun called him a friend, but his world revolved around Yotha, and Faifa didn’t seem to occupy enough space in it for Gun to look deeper.

Even Yotha—his own brother—seemed blind to who he truly was. Some of his remarks made that clear, like when he dismissed Faifa as simply someone who craved attention and affection. There was some truth in that, Tian admitted, but it wasn’t the whole story. It couldn’t be. Beneath the laughter and the noise, something far more complicated was hidden, and Tian couldn’t understand how Yotha didn’t see it.

Wine was a mystery in his own right—and Tian was jealous. Not of him exactly, but of what he had.

Tian loved challenges, and somewhere along the way, this had become one: uncovering the real Faifa, the version that only Wine seemed allowed to see.

And no, he wasn’t in love with Faifa. He didn’t have those kinds of feelings for him. Absolutely not.

Maybe his constant staring at Faifa—waiting for every word, every flicker of expression to reveal what lay behind the mask—had gone too far, because someone had started to notice.

“You know,” P’Gun had said, his tone uncharacteristically serious, “I don’t mean to be rude or anything, and maybe I’m wrong. But you really should stop staring at Faifa.”

He was sitting across from Tian, waiting for the rest of the group to arrive, while Tian’s eyes were fixed on Faifa and Wine walking hand in hand toward them. It was the first time Tian had ever seen Gun look both serious and uneasy at once.

Tian froze, his mind scrambling for words. “I—I wasn’t—” he began, but his voice faltered under Gun’s steady gaze. Heat crept up his neck. How could he even explain it? That he wasn’t obsessed, just curious? That he only wanted to understand?

Before he could untangle the words, laughter and footsteps broke the tension. Faifa, Wine, and Yotha arrived, their presence shifting the air around the table. Faifa was talking animatedly about something, his hand still loosely linked with Wine’s.

Gun gave Tian one last pointed look before leaning back in his seat, smile sliding easily back into place as if nothing had happened.

Tian forced himself to look away, pretending to busy himself with his phone, but the back of his neck still burned.

Faifa slipped easily into the conversation, greeting everyone with that bright, practiced warmth of his. He made sure to include Tian—asking about a class project, teasing him lightly about his workload—but it was all surface-level, friendly without invitation. Faifa had perfected that balance: close enough to make people feel seen, distant enough to keep them from seeing him.

Tian answered, trying to sound natural, though every word felt strained. Across the table, Gun avoided looking at him, too intent on his drink, his smile a little too fixed.

The chatter flowed around them, light and effortless. Yet for Tian, every laugh, every glance, only deepened the quiet frustration pressing at his chest.

🔆

At one of their usual nights out at Newton’s Bar, with almost everyone from the group present, Tian found himself staring at Faifa again—pulled in like a magnet.

He’d noticed it the moment they arrived. At the entrance, Faifa had leaned close to whisper something to Wine, his smile soft and genuine, not the bright, public one he wore for everyone else. He hadn’t looked particularly eager to be there, yet now he stood in the center of the group beside Gun and Arm, laughter spilling easily from him, the perfect image of the crowd’s heartbeat.

Tian watched him, trying to see past the act—to catch a glimpse of that quiet smile from before.

But his gaze, too focused and too long, drew notice again. When he finally looked up from his thoughts, Yotha’s eyes were already on him. The stare wasn’t hostile, but it was sharp—stern, assessing. It made Tian’s stomach twist as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

🔆

Yotha wasn’t subtle. When Tian came back from the counter, he caught Yotha’s gaze again—a silent signal toward the hallway. Tian hesitated, then followed.

Away from the noise of the bar, Yotha stood against the wall, arms crossed, expression steady but not hostile.

“Look,” he started, quieter than Tian expected. “Faifa’s not available. He’s in a solid relationship with Wine. And I’m telling you this not because you’re doing something wrong, but because…” He exhaled slowly. “Because I can see where this might go for you.”

Tian frowned. “Where what might go?”

Yotha gave a small shake of his head. “You’re curious. Maybe more than that. I get it. Faifa has that effect. But don’t do that to yourself. You don’t stand a chance, Tian—not because you’re not enough, but because that door is closed. Completely.”

The words weren’t harsh, just firm—honest in a way that left no room for argument. Yotha straightened and clapped a hand lightly on Tian’s shoulder before walking back toward the lights and music.

Tian stayed where he was, the noise of the bar dull around him, the echo of Yotha’s voice sharper than it should have been.

Tian felt heat creeping up his neck. Embarrassment prickled at him—not because he had feelings for Faifa, but because it seemed like everyone assumed he did. It’s not that, he told himself, over and over.

He didn’t want Faifa in that way. What he wanted was understanding. Faifa seemed like a good person, someone who carried more beneath the surface than anyone realized, and Tian wanted to see that side—the real him, not just the mask everyone else knew.

He couldn’t even explain why he wanted it so badly. It wasn’t desire, not in the usual sense. It was curiosity, fascination, a pull that refused to be reasoned away. And that made it worse, because it was entirely his own secret to wrestle with.

🔆

Perhaps because of his stubborn obsession, Tian could claim he knew Faifa better than most in the group—certainly better than Arm or Arc. And maybe that was why he noticed it immediately. Something was wrong. Faifa wasn’t himself; he was dull, heavy with sadness.

They were at the bar, as usual, the place where all the group’s unspoken problems seemed to surface. Tian wished Wine would arrive quickly—he was certain Faifa’s expression would shift the moment Wine appeared. Perhaps Faifa had already drunk too much, trying to drown out whatever was gnawing at him.

Tian wasn’t indifferent to others’ suffering, and he knew Faifa wasn’t well. That’s why he had followed him to the bathroom when Faifa had stumbled in, clearly drunk. He didn’t know if it had been the right choice, but he couldn’t just leave him.

As soon as he reached the bathroom, Tian heard it: soft, broken sobs. His senior—the one he was so determined to understand—was crying. And Tian had no idea what to do.

“P’Faifa…” he called hesitantly, ready to offer a shoulder, a word, anything. But what happened next stunned him. The sobs stopped immediately. Ten seconds later, Faifa emerged from the bathroom, wearing the biggest, brightest smile Tian had ever seen.

Tian tried again, stepping a little closer. “P'Faifa… if something’s wrong, you can… you know, cry on my shoulder. I won’t mind.”

Faifa’s eyes flicked to him, and then he chuckled. “Cry on your shoulder? Really, Tian? That’s… kind of dramatic, don’t you think?” He leaned back, shaking his head, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. “I’m fine. Totally fine. You’re overthinking this.”

“I’m not—” Tian started, but Faifa waved him off, already slipping back into his playful tone.

“Relax,” Faifa said, nudging Tian lightly. “Look at me—I’m smiling, aren’t I? Nothing’s wrong. See? Problem solved!”

By the time they returned to the table, Faifa was laughing at some comment from Arm, joking, gesturing, completely avoiding Tian’s words. Tian followed silently, the weight of unacknowledged concern pressing on him.

Then Wine arrived, calm as always. Faifa’s smile softened the moment he saw him, and without a word, he stood and followed Wine toward the bathroom. Tian couldn’t look away.

And this time, it wasn’t just him. By the time he realized it, everyone at the table had caught his gaze. Yotha’s eyes narrowed, Gun blinked in surprise, and Tian felt his face heat up.

Yotha’s arms were crossed, his gaze sharp. Gun’s brows were furrowed, fidgeting slightly. Arm and Arc exchanged glances, their smiles tight. Even Newton, Yotha and Faifa’s older brother, leaned forward, curiosity and concern written across his face.

“Tian,” Yotha started, his voice calm but firm, “are you… okay? You’ve been staring at Faifa all night.”

Gun chimed in, a little more nervously, “Yeah, man. I mean… it’s kind of obvious. You’re not exactly subtle.”

“Tian, seriously,” Arm added, shaking his head. “It’s one thing to notice him. It’s another to—well, you know…”

Arc leaned forward, voice softer, but insistent. “You don’t want to make things weird. Faifa’s… with Wine. You’ve got to respect that.”

Newton’s voice cut through, deeper and quieter. “You know he’s not available. Stop hurting yourself. ”

Tian felt heat spike through him, frustration rising like a tide. “Stop!” he exploded, louder than he intended. All of them froze, eyes on him. “I’m not in love with Faifa! I don’t have feelings for him!” His hands curled into fists on the table. “I’m just… curious! He’s a good person! I want to understand him! That’s it! That’s all! It’s nothing more!”

The table went silent for a moment, the words hanging heavy in the air. Tian’s chest heaved as he realized how loud he had been.

Yotha’s gaze sharpened, Gun’s fidgeting grew more pronounced, and even Arm and Arc exchanged looks that spoke louder than words.

“A little curiosity doesn’t make you stare like that,” Yotha said quietly but firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And Faifa… he’s not just anyone. He’s kind, funny, caring. People notice him. You notice him too much.”

“Exactly,” Gun added, voice tight. “I mean, it’s one thing to be interested in someone’s personality… but you’re—well…” He trailed off, unsure how to phrase it without sounding accusatory.

Tian’s face burned, anger bubbling beneath the embarrassment. “I’m not—!” he started, then faltered, realizing even he couldn’t fully explain the pull he felt. It wasn’t love. Not in the usual sense. It was more like obsession, fascination—a compulsion to see Faifa beyond the mask everyone else adored.

Newton leaned forward, voice low but steady. “You can’t pretend this is harmless curiosity. Faifa’s lovable. People naturally care for him. That’s why what you’re doing… it’s dangerous. Even if you don’t feel it as love, it looks like it. And you gotta stop it before it crosses lines.”

Tian clenched his jaw, hands trembling slightly. He wanted to argue, to insist it was nothing, but even he had to admit the truth. Perhaps he had crossed a line. Perhaps his curiosity—his stubborn, relentless curiosity—had become more than just wanting to understand.

And for the first time, he wondered if he’d gone too far.

Chapter Text

Tian, twenty, came from a family of archaeologists and a sister who was a psychologist—curiosity was practically in his DNA. And P’Faifa felt like a project waiting to be uncovered, a puzzle begging to be pieced together.

But maybe his fascination had become too obvious, and his disappointment too transparent each time Faifa offered nothing beyond the surface. It almost irritated him—how Faifa smiled for everyone yet seemed unable to truly talk to anyone except Wine. The more Tian noticed it, the more it gnawed at him. Until finally, he stopped—because everyone now seemed convinced he had a crush on Faifa, and he refused to give them another reason to believe it.

Yet no matter how hard he tried, Tian’s gaze always found its way back to him—even when he didn’t realize it himself.

His fascination had become so obvious that even Faifa seemed to notice. The realization embarrassed Tian, though a small part of him hoped it might finally open the door to a real conversation between them. But it never did.

Even when Faifa looked uneasy under the weight of Tian’s attention, he never said a word. He simply pretended nothing was happening—carrying on with the same easy friendliness as always, keeping Tian at that careful distance disguised as closeness.

🔆

Newton’s Bar was, without a doubt, the group’s curse.

Seven months had passed since Tian had joined the Perfect 10 Liners, and over the last two, his fixation on Faifa had finally begun to fade. His attention had drifted elsewhere—to Jay.

Yes, Tian had definitely developed a crush on Jay, P’Wine’s best friend. A sophomore with an easy laugh and a smile that could undo anyone. No one in the group knew, of course. Despite being outgoing, Tian wasn’t the type to announce personal things unless someone asked.

Unfortunately, Jay didn’t seem the least bit interested. He treated Tian like a younger brother—friendly, warm, and painfully platonic, even calling him “bro.” So tonight, Tian only wanted one thing: to drink, get drunk, and drown every bit of unreciprocated affection in alcohol.

Tian’s problem? When he drank, he lost every shred of self-control he had. His mouth ran faster than his brain—and his brain wasn’t exactly in charge anymore.

By the time he reached his fifth beer, he was already laughing too loudly, his words tumbling out without filter or sense. He sat wedged between Faifa and Yotha—an unfortunate position, considering one was the last person he wanted to embarrass himself in front of, and the other had the judgmental eyes of a hawk.

🔆

“Tian?” Faifa’s voice cut through the music, soft but tense. “Hey, what—what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“I—” Tian hiccupped, rubbing at his eyes. The more he tried to breathe, the harder the sobs came.

P’Arm appeared beside them, still half-laughing from whatever joke Arc had just made. “Oh god, did he drink too much again?”

“Only five beers,” Yotha muttered dryly. “So yes.”

Faifa crouched in front of Tian, panic flickering across his usually calm face. “Hey, don’t cry, okay? You’re fine, nothing happened.” He reached out awkwardly, patting Tian’s shoulder like he was defusing a bomb. “You want water? Food? Air?”

Tian only shook his head, tears spilling faster.

And then Gun—drunk, loud, and utterly unfiltered—leaned across the table with a tragic look on his face. “Don’t cry, Tian! We’re gonna find someone better than Fai, okay? You deserve love too!”

The table froze.

Yotha groaned into his hands. “Gun, for the love of—”

“What?” Gun blinked. “He’s obviously heartbroken! Look at him!”

Tian’s head snapped up, eyes red and wet. “What did you just say?” His voice cracked, sharp with anger this time. “I’m not crying over P'Faifa!”

Gun flinched, eyes wide. “Uh—”

“I’m not in love with him!” Tian shouted, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

Faifa froze, hands half-raised, unsure whether to comfort or retreat. The others exchanged glances—Arm biting back a grin, Arc looking like he wanted to vanish, Yotha muttering a curse under his breath.

“Tian,” Faifa said quietly, “maybe we should step outside.”

But Tian only shook his head, jaw tight, anger burning where embarrassment had been seconds ago.

Tian, hiccupping again, shoved his face toward Faifa. “I… I don’t—like you! Not like that! I just… I like that you’re… mysterious! And I want—want to be your friend! But you don’t… you don’t seem to want to have real friends! And it makes me… insane! Because I totally would love being real friends with a person like you!

The table froze. Silence, except for Tian’s uneven breathing and soft hiccups. Faifa blinked, caught between shock and amusement.

He jabbed a finger toward the far end of the bar. “It’s his fault that I'm like this!”

Everyone turned. Wine, who’d just returned with a glass of water, froze mid-step.

“My fault?” Wine asked, calm but cautious.

“Your best friend’s fault!” Tian snapped, voice cracking. “P'Jay! He—he calls me ‘bro,’ like I’m twelve or something!” His voice rose, a little too loud for the crowded bar. “I liked him, okay? I liked him, and he just smiled and said, ‘you’re like a brother to me.’ A brother! What kind of cursed word is that?”

Gun burst into helpless laughter. Yotha kicked his shin under the table.

Faifa tried—and failed—to hide a smile. “Okay, okay, Tian, breathe. You’re fine. We’re not mad at Jay, alright?”

“I am!” Tian huffed, tears starting again. “He smiles like that—like that!—and everyone just falls for him! And I’m stupid enough to think maybe—” he hiccupped, then sniffed hard, “maybe he saw me. But no! I’m just another brother!”

Faifa sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Okay, okay, no more beer for you.”

Tian glared at him, face blotchy and red. “Don’t look at me like that, P’Faifa! You’re all the same—you and Wine—so damn perfect, with your perfect boyfriends and your perfect faces—”

Faifa blinked, speechless. Arm coughed into his drink.

Yotha muttered, “I warned you he shouldn’t sit near alcohol.”

Faifa exhaled slowly, standing to his full height. “Come on, kid. Let’s get you some air before you declare war on every couple in Bangkok.”

🔆

The cool night air hit Tian as Faifa guided him outside, arms half around him. He clung to Faifa like a lifeline, hiccupping and crying, his words slurred and raw.

“I… I’m so stupid… so… ughhh!” Tian buried his face in Faifa’s chest, shaking.

Faifa froze, then let out a small exasperated laugh. “Tian… breathe. You’re fine, okay? You’re not dying. Just… slow down.” He patted Tian’s back awkwardly, unsure whether to comfort or tease.

Tian hiccupped violently. “I… I can’t! P'Jay… P'Jay’s… ughhh! He’s… he’s just so… stupidly nice!”

Faifa blinked, trying not to laugh. “You know… this reminds me of someone else a year ago. Wine. Exactly like this. Crying, dramatic, impossible to calm down. And now… look at him.”

Wine, standing a few steps away with a glass of water, was still frozen. In disbelief. What the hell? All this time he had assumed Tian had a crush on Faifa, like everyone else in the group did. But now… Jay?

Tian hiccupped again, burying his face further. “He… smiles like that… everyone just… and I… I’m just… another brother…”

Wine’s mind raced. Not only had Tian been crushing on someone else all along, but the boy was crying so openly in front of Faifa—the very person whose surface everyone else saw but no one cared to look deeper. Tian had actually seen through Faifa’s mask. No one usually does that, Wine thought. No one is persistent enough to care.

Wine felt a strange mix of awe and protectiveness. Tian, the youngest, the one he assumed was smitten with Faifa, has actually a crush on Jay and wants to be real friends with Faifa.

Faifa finally leaned back, letting Tian catch his breath. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “But… you’re not awful. Just… very dramatic.”

Tian sniffled, looking up with red eyes. “I… I just… I want… to be your friend… really, truly… but you… you don’t let anyone in.” Yes Tian was totally out of it.

Wine stayed silent, watching both of them. He wasn’t jealous. Not anymore. He was stunned.

For a moment, everything outside the bar felt still. Just the three of them, messy and real, emotions laid bare in the cool night air, while Wine processed the shocking truth: Tian wasn’t obsessed with Faifa; he admired him, yes, but the heartache, the real love, was all for Jay—and somehow, Tian had also seen the real Faifa. That was… astonishing.