Ping arrived at school like he always did.
He walked through the gate quietly, his bag slung over one shoulder, footsteps measured and unhurried.
Even before the first bell rang, his mind had already planned the day ahead—classes, notes, short breaks by the window, then home. He liked knowing what to expect. Routine was comforting. Predictability made the world feel smaller, softer, and less overwhelming.
The morning air was cool, carrying the faint scent of dew and freshly watered grass.
Ping inhaled slowly as he walked, adjusting his glasses with one finger.
Everything felt normal—until it didn't. The moment he stepped fully into the school compound, he sensed something was wrong.
Students weren't heading straight to their classrooms like usual. Instead, they gathered in small clusters, voices buzzing with excitement. Some were laughing loudly, others whispering, eyes bright with curiosity.
Teachers stood near the notice board, gesturing and directing students toward the main hall. Rows of chairs were already being arranged, scraping against the floor as prefects hurried to line them up neatly.
Ping slowed his steps.
"A school event? Today?" he wondered. No one had mentioned anything about an event. Not in class, not on the notice board yesterday, not even in passing conversations.
His chest tightened slightly at the unexpected change. Ping didn't like surprises, especially ones that involved crowds and noise.
A quiet sigh escaped his lips as he followed the flow of students toward the hall. There was no avoiding it now. He adjusted his glasses again, fingers lingering at the frame longer than necessary, and reminded himself to stay calm. It was just an event. It would end eventually.
The school hall was louder than he expected. Students from different classes and year levels filled the space, their voices overlapping in a chaotic blend of laughter, chatter, and excitement. The sound echoed off the walls, bouncing back louder than before.
Ping's grip tightened around the strap of his bag as he scanned the room, his eyes darting from row to row in search of a place that felt… safe. Crowds made him uneasy.
Too many voices, too many eyes, too much movement all at once. He chose a seat near the side—not too close to the front, not too far back. Somewhere he could breathe without feeling trapped.
Sitting down, he let out another quiet sigh, shoulders relaxing just a little. He fixed his gaze ahead, focusing on the empty stage and the microphone stand, hoping the event would start—and end—quickly. Even though it hadn't started yet, he already felt tired.
Then someone stopped in front of him.
"Can I sit here?"
Ping looked up.
It was Keng!!
For a moment, Ping's mind went completely blank. Then it filled all at once.
"Why here?"
" There are so many empty seats…"
"why me?"
His face paled slightly as his thoughts raced.
Keng was a final-year student—popular, confident, the kind of person who seemed to draw attention without even trying. His uniform always looked perfect, his posture relaxed, his presence commanding.
People noticed him. People watched him.
And now, people were watching THEM!!
Whispers spread like ripples across water. Ping could feel it—the sideways glances, the quiet murmurs. His heart thudded loudly in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears.
He swallowed and nodded quietly.
"Y-yes."
Keng smiled, warm and effortless.
"Thanks."
He sat down beside Ping, leaving just enough space to be polite—not too close, not too far.
Still, Ping could feel his presence clearly, like the air around him had shifted, heavier and warmer somehow.
Ping tried to focus forward, but his thoughts refused to settle.
"Is he uncomfortable?"
"Did I look strange just now?"
"Everyone is staring…"
His heartbeat quickened. Without realizing it, his shoulders stiffened, his back straightening as if bracing himself. His fingers curled into the edge of his notebook, knuckles whitening.
Keng noticed.
Ping adjusted his glasses again, eyes fixed stubbornly ahead, fingers fidgeting with the corner of the page.
Crowds did that to people like Ping—Keng had noticed it before.
The way Ping always chose quiet corners. The way he stayed close to windows, as if needing an escape route. The way his movements became smaller when there were too many people around.
That was exactly why Keng had chosen this seat.
The hall was crowded, noisy, overwhelming. Sitting alone would only make Ping stand out more.
Sitting beside someone—someone confident, someone steady—might help him blend in, feel grounded.
Even if Ping didn't understand it yet.
"You okay?" Keng asked quietly, keeping his voice low so only Ping could hear.
Ping startled slightly at the sudden attention, then nodded.
"Yes."
It wasn't entirely true, but it wasn't entirely a lie either.
The event began. A teacher stepped onto the stage, tapping the microphone. The noise in the hall slowly softened as students settled into their seats. Voices faded into murmurs, then silence. The overwhelming buzz dulled into something manageable.
Ping's breathing eased. He hadn't realized how tense he'd been until that moment. He took a slow breath in, then out, shoulders relaxing bit by bit. There was still noise, still people—but it felt different now. Less suffocating.
He didn't know why, but having someone beside him—someone calm and grounding—made it easier. Made the unexpected feel less frightening.
Ping kept his eyes forward, pretending to listen, though his thoughts drifted back to the presence beside him.
He still didn't know why Keng had chosen this seat.
But for the first time that day, the shock of the unexpected didn't feel so terrifying.
And somehow, without realizing it, Ping felt a small shift inside him—like the quiet beginning of something new.