Pov: Sun Suwannasuk Sawannakul
I don't tie.
And I definitely don't get called out and just… move on.
So yeah—Tee Teerawat Darunpakdee messed up.
Badly.
Because if he thought that little "you broadcast everything" line in the hallway was the end of it?
Cute.
This is where it actually starts.
—
Lunch at Eliya Academy isn't lunch. It's a performance.
Crystal chandeliers overhead. Tables stacked with sushi, truffle fries, overpriced matcha like we're all influencers on a brand deal. People don't eat here—they exist here.
And me?
I'm the main event.
I'm at my usual table—center, obviously—my throne, surrounded by my people.
Jay Jirayu is leaning back like he owns the place, flashing that stupid charming grin at someone across the room. Lila Lertchai is already filming something for her story, because of course she is. Finn Fongsakarn is quiet as always, sketching like the world isn't loud and annoying around him.
And Moon.
My goddess.
She's next to me, iced coffee in hand, flipping through notes like she's about to personally challenge mathematics to a duel.
Perfect.
All of it.
Exactly how it should be.
Except—
My eyes flick across the cafeteria.
And land on him.
Tee.
Of course he's alone.
Of course he looks like he doesn't belong here—and somehow still does.
Hoodie slightly loose. Headphones around his neck. That same irritating, calm expression like the world is optional to him.
He's grabbing food like this place isn't designed to impress people like him.
It annoys me more than it should.
"Sun."
Jay's voice cuts in.
"You're staring."
"I'm observing," I correct, leaning back.
"Observing like you're about to commit a crime," he says.
I smirk. "Relax. I'm about to deliver justice."
Moon doesn't even look up. "Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Whatever you're planning."
I put a hand on my chest, offended. "You wound me. I'm a man of class."
Lila snorts without looking up from her phone. "You're a man of chaos."
"Same thing," I say smoothly.
But I'm already standing.
Because honestly?
I'm done sitting.
—
The moment I move, people notice.
They always do.
Conversations dip. Heads turn. Phones subtly tilt.
Good.
I want them watching.
I walk straight toward Tee's table, slow, deliberate.
Like I've got all the time in the world.
Like I own the air between us.
He doesn't look up at first.
Just keeps eating.
Unbothered.
God, that's irritating.
"Hey, Teerawat."
My voice cuts clean through the noise.
Now he looks.
Dark eyes. Flat expression.
"Got a minute?" I tilt my head. "Or are you too busy pretending none of this exists?"
He sighs. Actually sighs.
"Not interested, Sun."
Oh.
That tone.
I smile wider.
"Not interested?" I echo. "Funny. You were very interested in the debate."
He sets his spoon down.
Slowly.
"You're making a scene."
"And you're dodging," I shoot back.
A few people nearby laugh under their breath.
I step closer.
"Come on," I say, voice dropping just enough. "Say it again. What was it? Projecting?"
His gaze doesn't waver.
"I said what I meant."
"Then explain it," I press. "Or was that your one-liner for the day?"
There's a pause.
Not long.
But enough.
Enough that I catch something flicker in his eyes.
Annoyance? Maybe.
"Why?" he says finally. "So you can perform it for them?"
That lands.
Harder than it should.
My smile tightens.
"And what?" I say. "You think you're above it? The silent, brooding act?"
I step even closer.
"Newsflash, Tee. Nobody buys it."
He stands.
Chair scraping loud enough to turn more heads.
He's closer now.
Closer than before.
Taller than I expected.
And—
Why does he smell good?
Just Diom cologne. Nothing fancy.
Still.
Annoyingly good.
"I don't need anyone to buy anything," he says quietly.
Then, sharper—
"Unlike you."
There it is.
That line.
That tone.
Something snaps.
—
I don't think.
I move.
The tray goes first.
My hand shoves it—hard.
Khao soi spills across the table, sauce splashing, noodles sliding.
Gasps ripple through the cafeteria.
Phones lift higher.
And for a split second—
I think he'll walk away.
Like always.
He doesn't.
His hand hits my shoulder.
Shoves me back.
Hard.
I stumble into the edge of a table, pain sparking through my side.
Good.
Finally.
I grab his hoodie.
Yank him forward.
"Say it again," I snap.
He doesn't.
He moves.
Fast.
My punch barely grazes his cheek before he ducks, grabbing my arm and twisting it.
Pain shoots up, sharp and bright.
We're too close.
Too tangled.
Too—
Someone shouts.
"Fight!"
The cafeteria erupts.
Noise. Chaos. Movement everywhere.
I swing again.
He blocks.
We collide into a chair, both of us off-balance.
His grip tightens.
Mine does too.
For a second—
just a second—
It feels like neither of us wants to stop.
—
Hands grab me.
"Sun—"
Jay.
Of course.
He pulls me back.
Someone else drags Tee away.
Moon's voice cuts through everything.
"Sun, stop!"
I don't.
Not immediately.
My chest is heaving.
My vision's sharp.
Locked on him.
There's a red mark on his cheek now.
From me.
And I hate that I notice it.
Hate that it—
fits.
"Enough!"
Ms. Pim's voice slams into the chaos.
Teachers swarm in.
People scatter.
Phones drop.
The moment breaks.
Just like that.
—
We're marched out like criminals.
Which, honestly, is dramatic. I respect it.
Tee walks beside me, silent.
Like nothing happened.
Like we didn't just—
I adjust my tie.
Roll my shoulders back.
Smile.
Because obviously.
Kings don't bow.
—
The principal's office smells like money and authority.
Mahogany desk. Gold frames. Big windows.
The kind of place where consequences are optional if your last name matters enough.
Good thing mine does.
Principal Chai looks tired.
Already.
"Fighting," he says flatly. "In the cafeteria."
I lean back in the chair, crossing my arms.
"He started it."
Tee lets out a quiet scoff.
"You shoved my tray."
I glance at him.
"After you started it."
"Enough," Chai cuts in.
We both go quiet.
"Suspension would be appropriate," he continues. "But unfortunately, both of you are… valuable."
Translation: we both are rich enough to not get punishment.
Noted.
"So instead," he says, "you'll be co-leading the Cultural Fest project."
I blink.
"No."
"That wasn't a suggestion."
I sit up straight.
"With him?" I point at Tee like he's a disease. "I'd rather organize a funeral."
"Feeling's mutual," Tee mutters.
Chai doesn't even react.
"Dismissed."
That's it.
No debate.
No drama.
Rude.
—
The hallway feels louder when we step out.
Or maybe it's just my head.
Moon's already there.
Arms crossed.
Expression tight.
"You're an idiot."
"Thank you," I say automatically.
But her hand brushes my shoulder.
Checking.
Soft.
Jay's behind her, grinning like this was entertainment.
Lila's typing fast—posting, obviously.
Finn's sketching something like he just witnessed art.
"Worth it," I say, flipping my hair.
Moon gives me a look.
"Really?"
I grin.
"Tee thinks he can challenge me? Please."
I glance down the hall.
He's already walking away.
Hands in pockets.
Shoulders slightly tense.
Not looking back.
"I'll bury him in this project," I add.
Confident.
Certain.
Like always.
But something twists in my chest.
Small.
Annoying.
Because for a second—
just a second—
when we were fighting—
it didn't feel like winning mattered.
And that?
Yeah.
That's a problem.
___