Chapter 7

Late Monday afternoon, campus had started to quiet down.

Most classes were over, students slowly disappearing toward dorms, cafés, or evening plans while the last sports practices wrapped up near the field. The air carried the distant sound of whistles and laughter, fading little by little into the background.

Santa walked past the soccer locker room with his hands tucked into his pockets, thoughts drifting somewhere far away from where he actually was.

Without meaning to, he had been thinking about Perth again.

Small moments from the weekend kept replaying in his head. Perth drying his hair with surprising gentleness. The lazy conversations between movies. The way Perth had looked at him that night, like nothing else existed for a moment except him.

The memories came so easily now that Santa didn’t even notice himself smiling faintly.

Then he heard his name.

His steps slowed instinctively. At first, he thought maybe he imagined it. But then it came again, clearer this time through the slightly open locker room door.

“…so what about Santa?”

Santa stopped completely. He shouldn’t listen. He knew that immediately. But something in the tone made unease settle low in his stomach. Before he could stop himself, he moved a little closer, staying quiet, hidden just outside the doorway.

Inside, several voices overlapped casually, teasing and relaxed.

“Don’t tell me you actually went through with it,” Ohm said with a laugh.

A pause followed.

Then Perth’s voice. Lower than usual, more tense. “…Drop it, Ohm.”

New laughed immediately after that. “Come on, don’t act like that now. You won the bet, didn’t you? Everyone saw it.”

Santa felt his chest tighten painfully.

A bet?

For a second, his mind refused to process the words properly.

Silence stretched inside the locker room.

Too long.

Then Perth finally answered. “…Yeah.”

The single word hit harder than anything else could have. Santa went completely still. His heartbeat suddenly sounded deafening in his ears.

Someone whistled softly. “Damn. So what now? You already got him to fall for you?”

Perth didn’t answer immediately.

When he finally spoke again, all humor had disappeared from his voice. “It’s not like that.”

“Sure,” New replied teasingly. “So what then? You still playing along or what?”

Another silence followed, longer this time.

“…It’s complicated,” Perth muttered quietly.

Santa stopped hearing the rest after that.

Everything suddenly clicked together in the worst possible way.

Perth’s strange mood all weekend.

The hesitation.

The distracted looks.

The guilt written all over his face whenever silence settled between them.

Santa had thought Perth was nervous. Instead, he had been carrying this.

A bet.

That was how all of this had started as.

Santa stepped backward carefully before anyone could notice him standing there. His chest felt tight enough to hurt. The warmth from every memory of the weekend turned cold so quickly it almost made him dizzy.

He walked away fast, faster than he normally would.

By the time he reached his dorm building, his hands were shaking slightly around his phone. Tears blurred his vision despite how hard he tried to keep them back, but his expression had already begun hardening into something distant, more closed off. He stared at the screen for several long seconds before finally typing.

Santa: Come to my room after practice.

He pressed send immediately before he could change his mind.

*

By the time evening arrived, Santa was already waiting.

The room looked exactly the same as it always had. But it no longer felt the same. Everything felt colder somehow.

The knock finally came a little after sunset.

Santa’s chest tightened instantly.

“Come in.”

Perth stepped inside quickly, still dressed in practice clothes, breathing slightly heavier than usual like he had rushed over the second he saw the message.

The moment he looked at Santa, his expression changed. Concern appeared immediately.

“What happened?” he asked quietly.

Santa didn’t answer at first. He only stared at him for several long seconds, searching his face carefully like he was trying to find something familiar and failing.

Then he spoke. “What was the bet?”

Perth froze, not confusion, guiltiness.

And that was all Santa needed. His jaw tightened, the calm in his voice cracking just slightly. “I heard you. Earlier. At the locker room.”

Silence filled the space between them.

“…Santa,” Perth started, but the words didn’t come easily anymore.

“Don’t,” Santa cut in, sharper now. “Just… don’t lie to me right now.”

The word again hung in the air. Perth’s chest tightened. He had run out of time.

“I was going to tell you,” he said, voice strained.

Santa let out a short, humorless laugh. “When? After you won?”

“That’s not—” Perth stopped himself, frustration flashing across his face. “It’s not like that anymore.”

“But it was,” Santa shot back immediately, his composure slipping now. “That’s how this started, right?”

Perth didn’t answer, and that silence said everything.

Santa nodded slowly, like he was confirming it to himself. “So what was it? A joke? Something to pass time?” His voice wavered despite his effort to keep it steady. “Or was I just… an easy target?”

“Don’t say that,” Perth snapped, stepping closer instinctively.

Santa took a step back. The distance between them widened just enough to hurt.

“Then explain it,” he said, quieter now but no less sharp. “Because right now, it feels exactly like that.”

Perth ran a hand through his hair, the weight he had been carrying all weekend crashing down all at once.

“I messed up,” he admitted, voice rough. “Yeah, there was a bet. At the beginning. I’m not going to lie about that.”

Santa’s gaze dropped for a second, like even hearing it out loud hit differently.

“But it didn’t stay like that, not after the party,” Perth continued quickly, stepping forward again, more careful this time. “Not with you.”

Santa shook his head, a bitter smile pulling at his lips. “That doesn’t fix anything.”

“I know,” Perth said immediately. “I know it doesn’t. But what I feel isn’t fake.”

Santa looked up at him then, eyes searching, hurt cutting through the anger. “And how am I supposed to believe that?”

His eyes stayed locked on Perth’s, searching, almost desperately now, like he needed something solid to hold onto in everything that was suddenly collapsing.

“…What was the price?” he asked. His voice was quieter than before, but it hit harder. No anger this time. No sharp edges. Just something raw.

Perth’s stomach dropped. Out of everything Santa could have asked, that was the one question he hadn’t wanted to hear. Because it made it real in a different way. Dirtier.

“It doesn’t matter,” Perth said quickly, almost too quickly. “I don’t care about that anymore.”

Santa’s expression didn’t change. “That’s not what I asked.”

The silence stretched, suffocating. Perth could feel it closing in on him, the walls, the distance, the way Santa was already pulling away even if he was still standing right there.

“…It was just a stupid bet,” Perth admitted, his voice rough, frustration turning inward now. “Something meaningless. It was about money but none of that matters anymore.”

Santa let out a small, shaky breath. Money. The word echoed in his head, louder than anything else Perth had said. His chest tightened painfully, like something inside him was cracking open, slow and unavoidable.

“…That’s all I’m worth for you? Money?” Santa asked, but it didn’t sound like a real question.

Perth’s heart clenched. “You’re not. You’re the only thing that—”

“I don’t believe you.”

It came out barely above a whisper. And somehow, that hurt more than if Santa had shouted.

Santa’s gaze dropped, his vision blurring despite himself. He pressed his lips together, trying to hold it in, trying to stay composed like he had at the beginning of this conversation. But it slipped. A tear fell before he could stop it. Then another.

He shook his head slightly, more to himself than to Perth, like he was trying to make sense of something that refused to fit together anymore.

“I trusted you,” he said, voice breaking now. “I really… trusted you.”

Each word felt heavier than the last.

Perth took a step forward instinctively, panic starting to rise in his chest, sharp and overwhelming. “Santa, please—”

“And I liked you Perth,” Santa continued softly.

Perth was desperate now. “Please, just listen to me.”

Santa stepped back again. That small movement hit harder than anything else. Like a line being drawn.

“I can’t,” Santa said, his voice trembling despite the way he tried to steady it. He wrapped his arms around himself unconsciously, like he needed to hold something together. “I don’t even know what was real anymore.”

Perth felt it then. Not just distance.

Loss.

It was happening right in front of him, and he couldn’t stop it. Everything he had been avoiding all weekend, every moment he had delayed telling the truth, it was all crashing down at once. And now it was too late to control any of it.

“I’m telling you the truth now,” Perth insisted, his voice breaking under the pressure. “What I feel for you, it’s real. It changed, I swear it did—”

“But you still started it like this!” Santa cut in, louder now, tears falling freely. “You still looked at me and thought I was something you could win!”

Perth flinched, because he couldn’t deny it.

And Santa saw that. Something in his expression shut down completely after that, like the last piece finally fell into place. The hurt didn’t disappear. It just… closed off.

“That’s all I needed to know,” Santa whispered.

“No—” Perth stepped forward again, faster this time, panic fully taking over. “No, don’t do that. Don’t just—walk away from me like this.”

Santa shook his head, stepping back again, creating space, more and more of it.

“I’m not walking away,” he said, though it sounded like he was trying to convince himself. “I just… don’t know who you are anymore.”

That landed like a punch. Perth’s chest felt tight, like he couldn’t get enough air, his thoughts spiraling too fast to hold onto anything.

He was losing him. He could see it. In the way Santa wouldn’t meet his eyes anymore. In the way he kept putting distance between them like proximity itself hurt.

“Santa, please,” Perth said again, softer this time, almost desperate. “Don’t shut me out. Not like this.”

But Santa was already retreating inward, piece by piece. Even as the tears kept falling, even as his shoulders trembled slightly, there was something final in the way he held himself now. Like he was protecting what was left.

“I need you to leave,” he said quietly.

Perth stood there, frozen, the weight of it crashing down on him all at once. He had known this might happen. But knowing it and feeling it were two completely different things. And now, there was nothing he could do but watch Santa slip further away, knowing he was the one who pushed him there.

“Just… listen to me,” he said, his voice unsteady now, nothing like before. “Please.”

Santa shook his head immediately, wiping at his face with the back of his hand, though the tears hadn’t really stopped. “I heard enough.”

“No, you didn’t,” Perth insisted, the words coming faster now, messy, like he was running out of time. “You heard how it started, yeah. But you didn’t hear what it became.”

Santa laughed weakly, a broken sound that didn’t reach his eyes. “And that’s supposed to fix it?”

“It’s supposed to mean something,” Perth shot back, stepping closer again before catching himself, forcing his hands to stay at his sides. “Because you mean something to me. More than that stupid bet ever did.”

Santa’s gaze flickered up for a second, just a second, and Perth saw it, that hesitation, that crack. So he pushed.

“I like you,” he said, more quietly now, but more certain. “Not because of anything what happened at the beginning. Not because of them. Just… you, because of who you are.”

The room felt too small for the words. Too late for them.

Santa’s expression tightened again, that brief flicker gone as quickly as it came.

“You should’ve said that before,” he replied, voice trembling despite the firmness he tried to hold onto. “Before I found out like this.”

Perth’s chest ached at that, sharp and immediate.

“I know,” he admitted, his voice dropping. “I know I should have. I messed up. I was scared, I kept waiting for the right moment and I just… I ruined it.”

Santa looked away again, shaking his head slightly, like hearing it didn’t help. Like it only made things worse.

“You didn’t just mess up,” he said softly. “You lied. Every day.”

That hit harder than anything else. Perth didn’t argue. “…Yeah,” he said, barely audible.

Silence stretched again, heavier this time, filled with everything neither of them could fix.

“But I’m here now,” Perth continued after a moment, his voice rough but steadying with determination. “I’m telling you the truth now. I’m not running from it anymore. So just… give me a chance to fix this.”

Santa closed his eyes briefly, like the words physically hurt to hear. “A chance?” he repeated quietly.

Perth nodded, even if Santa wasn’t looking. “Yeah. One chance. That’s all I’m asking.”

Santa let out a shaky breath, his arms tightening around himself again, like he was holding something together that was already falling apart.

“…It’s too late,” he said.

Perth felt something drop in his stomach.

“No, it’s not—”

“It is,” Santa cut in, opening his eyes again, red and tired but firm. “Because I don’t trust you anymore.”

There it was, simple and straight. And impossible to argue with.

Perth’s throat tightened, but he didn’t look away this time. He forced himself to face it, even as it settled heavy in his chest.

“I can earn that back,” he said anyway, quieter now but stubborn. “I will.”

Santa shook his head again, taking another step back, like even hearing that was too much. “I don’t want you to try,” he whispered. “I just want you to leave.”

That hurt. More than the rejection. More than the anger. Because this wasn’t pushing him away out of impulse. This was Santa choosing distance.

Perth stood there for a long second, like he was memorizing him, the way he looked right now, the way everything had changed in just a few hours.

Then he exhaled slowly. “…Okay,” he said.

The word felt wrong in his mouth.

“I’ll go.”

Santa didn’t react.

Perth took a step back, then another, the space between them widening until it felt impossible to cross again. But before turning away, he looked at him one last time.

“I’m not giving up on you,” he said, his voice quieter, but steadier than anything he had said so far. “I don’t care how long it takes. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you trust me again.”

Santa’s expression didn’t change. Then Perth turned and walked out.

——
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