He sat up slowly, disoriented. The clock blinked just past 8 a.m. — too early to be awake on a weekend. There were no plans with Kla or Yu today; the song was nearly complete, and Yu had errands of his own.

But the dream had unsettled him. Its remnants clung to the edges of his mind: a sense of loss so sharp it twisted beneath his ribs. A voice, soft and full of longing, called a name he couldn’t quite remember. The unfinished melody — hauntingly similar to the one he and Kla had composed — threaded through his thoughts. A blood-red sky reflected on still water. The image lingered, heavy as grief.

He rubbed his eyes, frustrated. Why couldn’t he remember more? Why did the melody feel like a memory rather than an invention? Had he written it before? Surely not. And even if he had, how would Kla have known?

The ache wouldn’t fade. The longing — faint but insistent — stayed beneath his skin. He wanted to see Kla. Needed to. For answers? For comfort? He wasn’t sure.

Restless, he threw off the covers. A shower helped little. In the end, unable to stay in his apartment with the walls closing in, he took the keys to his sedan and headed for the nearby mall. Maybe breakfast would clear his head.

---

Yu gripped the steering wheel tighter as he approached Kla’s dorm.

He had debated coming at all. After the disastrous confession weeks ago, he’d tried to avoid Kla as much as possible. Space, he told himself. He needed space to untangle the mess of feelings inside him.

But he'd promised Run that he'd return the book back to Kla, and Yu hated leaving promises unfulfilled. It was just an excuse — but an excuse that got him the address. Now he was here, stomach twisting.

The dorm looked old. Peeling paint, cracked walls, dusty windows. He frowned. Is this even the right place? The GPS insisted it was.

Yu parked and climbed the worn stairs to the front door. The lobby was deserted. The air smelled faintly of mildew. He counted floors under his breath as he climbed.

“...Room 408...” The words steadied him.

Reaching the hallway, he hesitated. The walls were worse up here — plaster cracked, wallpaper curling. Why is Kla living like this? He’d never asked, never pried. But the thought unsettled him. Is he struggling? And if so... why transfer here mid-term?

As he neared the room, he heard voices. The door hung slightly ajar.

A girl’s voice floated out, clear and urgent. [“...P’Kla, you have to be careful. Your parents are keeping a close eye on you.”]

Yu froze. Kla’s voice answered, strained. “I know, Nicha. But I don’t have another place to go...”

The sound of running water followed — a bathroom door closing.

Nicha?

The name stabbed deeper than he expected. Was she his girlfriend? Had Kla lied? He’d told Yu he was single. Of course, it wasn’t Yu’s place to care anymore. He shouldn’t care. But the sharp pulse of jealousy rose anyway, unbidden.

You idiot, Yu thought bitterly. You should’ve known better than to fall for him. Better than to believe he was honest about everything.

His throat tightened. Without thinking, he backed away, steps light. The book remained in his bag, forgotten.

Down the stairs and out to his car, he barely noticed the faded walls anymore. Only one thought throbbed in his mind: I should have known better.

---

Tan wandered through the mall, appetite forgotten. The hum of conversation, the bright displays — all of it felt muted, distant.

Restlessness clawed at him. It was as if some invisible thread pulled him elsewhere, whispering that he didn’t belong here. That he was late for something he couldn’t name.

Turning a corner, he stopped.

There — walking toward a popular Japanese restaurant — was Kla.

Tan’s heart stuttered. Even from behind, he would have known that silhouette anywhere. The graceful tension in Kla’s shoulders, the careful way he moved — as if always ready to flee.

A girl stood by the restaurant’s entrance, waving him over. Petite, maybe 170 cm, with luminous fair skin and dark eyes that shone with relief. As Kla approached, she caught his arm and pulled him close — not in a lover’s embrace, but with the urgency of someone seeking reassurance.

Still, jealousy flared sharp in Tan’s chest. He told himself it was for Yu’s sake. Didn’t Kla tell Yu he was single?

But the bitterness burned too deep for such an easy excuse.

He lingered, unwilling to turn away.

They spoke in hushed voices. As the restaurant door opened, he caught a fragment:

“We have to be careful, P’Kla,” the girl said, voice tight with worry. “They’re watching me, too. They know about our meeting today...”

Then the door closed behind them, shutting out the words.

Tan stood frozen amid the flow of shoppers. His pulse drummed in his ears.

Why am I so worried about him? He didn’t know. The ache in his chest had only worsened. And beneath it, tangled with longing and confusion, was something darker: jealousy. Sharp, irrational, undeniable.

Why does he mean so much to me? He couldn’t answer.

A part of him wanted to walk away. Another part — stronger — wanted to follow. To demand an explanation. To be near him.

His feet shifted forward before he caught himself. No. What am I doing?

Even so, his gaze lingered on the restaurant’s polished glass. The lights inside gleamed cold and bright. And beneath them, something old and nameless stirred in his chest. A thread from another life, pulled taut and trembling.

He forced himself to turn away, each step heavier than the last.

---

Yu sat in his car, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles whitened.

He hadn’t intended to stay parked here. He should’ve driven off the moment he left Kla’s building. But the words he’d overheard looped through his mind.

Nicha. A girl. Someone Kla trusted enough to confide in. Enough to call him by that soft nickname — P’Kla — with familiarity.

Yu swallowed hard. Maybe it was never my place, he told himself. He’d been rejected. He’d accepted that, or thought he had.

But this... this felt like betrayal. Like he’d been foolish for believing even in Kla’s friendship.

I need to stop this, he thought. I need to stop caring.

Yet the image of Kla’s voice — low and tired, saying “I don’t have another place to go” — haunted him.

Was Kla trapped somehow? Why was he hiding? And why was Nicha warning him?

The questions tangled with the hurt until Yu couldn’t tell them apart.

With a shuddering breath, he started the engine. The ache in his chest followed him all the way home.

---

Tan sat alone at a corner table in a café, untouched coffee cooling beside him.

No answers came.

The melody still haunted him, rising and falling in his mind. The voice from the dream called out to him from behind the veil of memory. The river flashed red once more in his thoughts.

And beneath it all, the sight of Kla with Nicha gnawed at him.

He’s allowed to have friends, he told himself. You shouldn’t care this much.

But the words rang hollow.

He cared. Too much. And he didn’t know why.