The restaurant was quiet, the kind of expensive quiet that made Rye's sneakers sound like a structural failure against the polished floors. They had barely sat down when the air shifted. Min was there, standing near the back of the room his parents owned, looking every bit the cold heir to the empire. He didn't come over. He didn't wave. He just gave them a look—a sharp, lingering gaze that felt like a warning and a memory all at once.
Wut felt a surge of pure irritation. Enough is enough, he thought, his grip tightening on the menu until the paper crinkled. Phol is miserable, and Min is acting like a ghost haunting his own life. Wut made a silent vow: tomorrow's lecture, he was sitting as far from Min as the classroom allowed.
Under the table, Wut reached out and grabbed Phol's hand. It was a grounding, firm squeeze. When Phol looked at him, startled, Wut met his eyes with fierce determination. I've got you, the look said. Don't look back at him.
The meal was a blur of expensive food and Rye's chaotic attempts to lighten the mood. When the bill came, Phol slid his card over before anyone could argue.
"My man!" Rye grinned, giving Phol a thumbs-up. "I knew I liked you for more than just your face."
Outside, the atmosphere felt a little lighter. Phol pulled out his phone, and within minutes, a sleek, dark SUV pulled up to the curb. A driver hopped out, handing Phol the keys and taking his other car in a seamless swap.
Rye whistled, immediately sliding into the passenger seat and leaning toward Phol. "So, Phol... has anyone told you that you look exceptionally handsome behind the wheel of a car that costs more than my entire future?" Rye winked, radiating his usual brand of "troublemaker positivity."
Wut stepped directly between them, arms crossed. "Move it, Rye. He's already taken. The position of 'Phol's person' is closed for the season. Go find your own driver."
"Ouch, Wut. Cold," Rye laughed, retreating to the back seat as Phol cranked the music. For thirty minutes, the music blasted loud enough to drown out any lingering thoughts of Min's parents or broken promises.
They arrived at Wut's former place with thirty minutes to spare. Wut and Kiran headed into the office for their online lecture, leaving the rest to their own devices.
"I don't actually know how to build one of these," Phol admitted, staring at the deck of cards on the rug.
Jace looked at him with a deadpan stare, slowly leaning two cards together to form a perfect triangle. "It's physics, Phol. Anchor the corners first."
Phol was a fast learner. Within ten minutes, he wasn't just building; he was engineering. He constructed a multi-level base with cross-bracing that made Rye's lopsided attempt look like a pile of trash. But they soon hit a wall—the box was empty.
"Is that it?" Phol asked, looking around.
Pheet shrugged, leaning back against the sofa. "No wonder this house always felt so empty. Wut probably used the rest to level out a wobbly table."
Phol gave Pheet a long, unreadable side-eye. The "emptiness" of Wut's old life felt a little too real for a moment. To break the tension, Rye proposed a movie series. For three hours, they sprawled on the floor, the blue light of the TV flickering over their stunted card tower.
When the office door finally creaked open, Wut stepped out looking completely drained. He didn't say a word. He walked straight past the card tower, past Rye, and collapsed onto the rug where Phol was sitting.
He buried his face in Phol's shoulder, wrapping his arms around him in a silent, heavy hug.
"Rough lecture?" Phol whispered, his hands automatically finding their place on Wut's back.
"I hate Min," Wut muttered into Phol's shirt. "And I hate thermodynamics. But mostly Min. He spent the whole time asking 'clarifying questions' just to stare into the camera. It felt like he was trying to look through the screen."
Kiran emerged a moment later, rubbing his temples. "He was definitely being a narcissist. But Phol, your phone has been buzzing for twenty minutes. Same number."
Phol reached for the phone. He recognized the area code—the city where Min had been living abroad after the breakup. His expression faltered, but only for a second. He didn't pick up; he just flipped the phone face down.
Wut felt the tension in Phol's frame, but he didn't push. He just tightened his hug, letting Phol know he wasn't going anywhere. For now, the "spy twin" on the TV was the only drama they were going to acknowledge.