Chapter 8

The following days turned into a quiet kind of torture for Perth.

At first, he thought Santa only needed time to cool off, a day, maybe two, before he would be able to talk to him but no he couldn’t reach him. He sent messages that stayed unanswered for hours before eventually being left on read. Short texts turned into longer ones, then into deleted drafts he rewrote three times before sending anyway.

Perth: Can we talk?
Perth: Santa, I really want to clear things up
Perth: Please stop ignoring me

Nothing worked.

On campus, things only got worse.

Every time Perth spotted Santa in the library, Santa would gather his things and leave before Perth could even reach the table. If Perth waited outside one of his classes, Santa would walk out with Phuwin beside him and keep his eyes fixed ahead, pretending Perth wasn’t standing there at all.

It was driving him insane.

Perth had never struggled to get someone’s attention before. Usually, people came to him first. Friends, classmates, teammates. Even when they were angry, they still listened eventually.

Santa didn’t.

And somehow that hurt more than Perth expected.

One afternoon, Perth caught sight of him near an the economics building. Santa was carrying a stack of books against his chest, headphones hanging loosely around his neck. The sunlight hit the side of his face, warm and soft, and for a second Perth forgot why he was here. He only felt relief at finally seeing him close enough to touch.

“Santa.”

Santa immediately stiffened. He kept walking.

Perth quickened his pace. “Can you stop running away from me for one minute?”

“I’m not running away,” Santa muttered without looking at him.

“You literally leave every time I show up.”

Santa’s grip tightened around the books. “Because I don’t want to talk to you.”

The words landed harder than Perth wanted to admit. Before he could answer, Phuwin appeared from the nearby hallway, slipping naturally into step beside Santa like he had been expecting this.

“Hey,” Phuwin said, calm but firm. “Leave him alone.”

Perth frowned instantly. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“It does when you keep cornering him between classes.”

“I’m trying to fix things.”

“And he clearly doesn’t want to talk right now.”

Santa stayed silent the entire time, eyes lowered toward the ground. That bothered Perth even more. He wanted Santa to yell at him, shove him away, anything except this cold distance that made him feel invisible.

Perth let out a sharp breath, frustrated. “So what? He’s just gonna ignore me forever?”

“If that’s what he wants, yeah.”

The answer irritated him immediately.

Phuwin stepped a little closer to Santa, protective without making it obvious. Perth noticed it right away. The way Phuwin kept positioning himself between them. The way he watched Perth carefully anytime he got too close.

Like Perth was the problem.

He knew he was. The thought sat bitterly in his chest.

Santa finally looked up then, only for a second. His expression was tired more than angry, and somehow that made Perth feel worse.

“I just need space,” Santa said quietly.

Then he walked away with Phuwin beside him.

Perth stayed there long after they disappeared down the corridor, jaw tight, hands shoved deep into his pockets. Around him, students continued moving through campus, laughing, talking, living their lives normally while his own thoughts kept spinning in circles.

He hated this.

He hated not knowing what Santa was thinking.

And more than anything, he hated realizing how badly he missed him.

*

The gym was unusually quiet that evening.

Only a few people were scattered around the weight area, the steady sound of machines and muted music filling the space. Perth sat on the bench press, elbows resting on his knees as he caught his breath. Sweat clung to the back of his neck, his shirt damp from practice and whatever frustration he had been carrying around for the past week.

Across from him, Pond adjusted the weights on the cable machine without saying much.

That alone already felt strange.

Usually, Pond never shut up at the gym. He joked between sets, complained dramatically, tried to distract Perth on purpose. But tonight, the silence stretched too long.

Perth noticed it immediately.

“You’re being weird,” he said finally, grabbing his water bottle.

Pond glanced at him briefly before looking away again. “Phuwin told me what happened.”

Perth froze.

For a second, the sounds around them seemed distant.

“The bet,” Pond added quietly.

A heavy feeling settled in Perth’s stomach almost instantly.

Of course Santa had told Phuwin. And of course Phuwin had told Pond.

Pond sighed and sat down on the bench across from him. “I didn’t believe him at first.”

Perth looked down at the bottle in his hands, fingers tightening around the plastic.

“But then I thought about it.” Pond shook his head slightly. “You’ve been acting like your life is falling apart all week.”

Perth let out a dry laugh that held no amusement at all. “Maybe it is.”

“That bad?”

Perth stayed silent.

Pond studied him for a moment before speaking again, his voice more serious than usual. “Explain it to me.”

Perth frowned faintly. “What?”

“Why you did it.”

The question should have been easy to answer. A stupid challenge. A joke taken too far. Something meaningless at the beginning.

But now, sitting there with Santa refusing to even look at him anymore, none of it felt meaningless.

Perth leaned back against the bench, dragging a hand over his face. “It started after practice a few weeks ago.” His voice sounded tired even to himself. “The guys were joking around, talking about crushes and relationships and whatever. Then someone said Santa would never go for someone like me.”

Pond already looked unimpressed.

“And instead of ignoring it, you made a bet,” he guessed.

Perth nodded once.

The shame in his chest twisted harder saying it out loud.

“At first, I thought it’d be easy,” Perth admitted quietly. “I just wanted to prove I could do it.”

“That sounds awful when you say it like that.”

“I know.”

Pond stared at him for a long second. “So what changed?”

Perth laughed bitterly under his breath.

“Everything.”

The word came out instantly, almost too fast.

He looked away toward the mirrors lining the wall, jaw tightening.

“I didn’t expect him to be…” He paused, searching for the right word. “Santa’s different.”

Pond stayed quiet, letting him continue.

“He actually listens when you talk. He remembers stupid details. He cares about people even when they don’t deserve it.” Perth swallowed hard. “Being around him felt easy. Like I didn’t have to pretend all the time.”

Images kept flashing through his mind without permission. Santa asleep beside him in the library. Santa laughing quietly at one of his dumb jokes. Santa looking at him softly like Perth was someone worth trusting.

His chest ached.

“I kept telling myself I’d end the bet before it went too far,” Perth admitted. “But every time I tried, I couldn’t.”

“Because you like him.”

Perth didn’t answer immediately. Then, quietly, “Yeah.”

The confession sat heavily between them.

Pond leaned back slightly, arms crossed. “Does Santa know that part?”

Perth scoffed softly. “He barely lets me get within five feet of him.”

“Can you blame him?”

“No.”

That was the worst part. Perth couldn’t even be angry at Santa for avoiding him because he understood exactly why he was hurt.

Pond watched him carefully, his expression softer now. “You really messed this up.”

Perth let out another humorless laugh. “Thanks. Very helpful.”

“I’m serious.” Pond shook his head. “You should’ve told him the truth way earlier.”

“I know that too.”

Silence settled between them again, filled only by the distant clanging of weights.

After a moment, Pond spoke more quietly. “Phuwin’s furious, by the way.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

“He thinks you played with Santa’s feelings.”

Perth’s stomach twisted painfully. The thing was, at the beginning, maybe he had.

But somewhere along the way, Santa had become the first thing Perth looked for every morning. The first person he wanted to text after practice. The only one who could make him feel calm and guilty and happy all at once.

And now he had lost him completely.

Perth stared down at the floor, exhausted.

“I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t even know if things between us could be fixed.”

*

Pond’s words stayed in Perth’s head long after they left the gym.

You really messed this up.

Perth hated hearing it, even though he knew that Pond was right.

No apology would fix this overnight. No dramatic confession, no late-night message, no desperate attempt to corner Santa outside class. None of it mattered if Perth stayed the exact same person who had made the bet in the first place.

If he wanted even the smallest chance of earning Santa’s trust again, he had to change first.

Not for show.

Not to impress him.

Actually change.

The realization settled heavily in his chest over the next few days. And slowly, people around him started noticing it too. It began with small things.

Perth stopped hanging around after practice just to joke around with random people. The easy flirting that used to come naturally disappeared almost overnight. When girls and boys from other departments waved at him across campus, he only nodded politely before continuing on his way.

His teammates noticed immediately.

“Who are you and what did you do with Perth?” Ohm joked one afternoon after training.

Usually, Perth would have laughed and thrown a towel at him. Instead, he barely looked up from tying his shoes. “Shut up.”

Even his tone sounded different. Less playful. More tired.

At first, everyone assumed he was just in a bad mood because of Santa.

But the change kept going.

During practice, Perth became harsher with himself than anyone else. He stayed later after the others left, running drills again and again until sweat soaked through his shirt completely. If the team lost focus, he snapped at them to pay attention instead of laughing it off.

More than once, Pond caught him alone on the field after sunset, exhausted and silent under the stadium lights.

“You know overtraining won’t magically solve your problems, right?” Pond said one evening, walking over with two bottles of water.

Perth accepted one quietly. “I know.”

“Then why are you still here?”

Perth stared toward the empty goalpost ahead of him.

“Because when I stop moving, I start thinking.”

Pond didn’t know how to answer that.

The changes showed up in class too.

Perth actually attended lectures on time now. He stopped sleeping through half of them and started taking notes seriously instead of copying assignments at the last minute. Some professors looked genuinely shocked the first few times he participated.

One afternoon, Perth ended up in the library alone, sitting at the same table where he used to study with Santa.

The sight of the empty chair across from him made something ache sharply inside his chest.

For a moment, he almost packed his things and left.

Instead, he opened his textbook again.

He could still picture Santa there so clearly. Head resting against his hand while reading. Highlighter between his fingers. Quiet concentration written across his face.

Perth swallowed hard and forced himself to focus on the page.

Even when Santa wasn’t around, he kept trying.

That was the important part.

Not because he expected Santa to suddenly forgive him.

Not because he thought being better would erase what he had done.

But because somewhere along the way, Perth realized he didn’t like the person he had been before all this happened.

And maybe Santa had been the first person who ever made him want to become someone better.

*

The afternoon rain had just started when Santa and Phuwin settled into their usual corner of the library.

Soft droplets tapped against the windows while students whispered around them, the entire room wrapped in that calm, sleepy atmosphere that always came with bad weather. Santa sat curled slightly over his notes, pencil moving slowly across the page, though he had reread the same sentence at least four times already.

Across from him, Phuwin watched him carefully. “You’ve noticed it too, right?”

Santa looked up faintly. “Noticed what?”

Phuwin leaned back in his chair. “Perth.”

The name alone was enough to make Santa’s chest tighten. He lowered his eyes back to the notebook immediately. “I’m trying not to.”

“Well, he’s making that difficult.”

Santa stayed quiet. Because the annoying part was that Phuwin was right. It had been impossible not to notice the changes lately.

Perth barely talked during classes anymore. He stopped messing around during practice. Even the constant flirting people used to joke about had disappeared completely. Everywhere on campus, he seemed calmer somehow. Quieter. Almost sad.

Santa hated that part most. He didn’t want to care enough to notice when Perth looked exhausted.

Phuwin rested his chin against his hand. “Pond told me he’s been serious about it.”

Santa’s pencil stopped moving. “What do you mean?”

“He talked to Perth after finding out…well you know what I mean,” Phuwin paused briefly. “Apparently Perth told him everything.”

Santa swallowed slowly, trying to ignore the uncomfortable twist in his stomach.

“And?”

“And Pond said he regrets it, like really.”

Santa let out a soft breath through his nose, staring down at the page in front of him.

Regret.

The word should have made him feel better. Instead, it only made everything more complicated.

“He’s been trying really hard lately,” Phuwin continued carefully. “Not just with you. In general.”

Santa gave a small nod before he could stop himself. “I know.”

Because he did know. He noticed how Perth was trying to put some efforts into changing. And the worst part was how genuine it seemed.

It would have been easier if it looked fake. If Perth had been dramatic about it, constantly trying to show off how much he’d changed just to get forgiveness. But he wasn’t doing that. Most of the time, Perth didn’t even seem aware anyone was watching.

That was what made Santa’s feelings so messy.

Phuwin watched him for a moment. “Doesn’t it change anything for you?”

Santa’s expression tightened slightly.

After a long silence, he shook his head. “No,” he answered quietly.

Phuwin looked unconvinced.

Santa closed his notebook slowly, fingers resting against the cover. “Okay, maybe it changes something,” he admitted. “But not enough.”

The honesty hurt more than he expected. Because part of him wanted it to be enough.

Part of him missed Perth constantly. Missed the easy conversations, the late study sessions, the warmth of being close to him without overthinking every little thing.

But every memory now came attached to another thought.

It started with a bet.

No matter how much Perth changed now, Santa couldn’t erase that.

“I can see he’s trying,” Santa said softly. “I’m not blind.”

“Then what’s stopping you?”

Santa looked down at his hands.

“Trust.”

The answer came instantly. His throat felt tight suddenly.

“When someone lies to you from the beginning, you start questioning everything after that.” His voice stayed calm, but Phuwin could hear the hurt underneath it. “I don’t know how to trust him anymore.”

Phuwin’s expression softened.

Santa laughed quietly, though there was no real humor in it. “That’s the problem, because even now, even after all, part of me still wants to believe him, still wants to give him a chance.”

And that terrified him more than anything.

——
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