Phawin Kittisak did not believe in fate.

He believed in alarms, proper schedules, neatly written notes, and the kind of order that made life feel predictable. Which is why it annoyed him deeply—almost personally—that today had decided not to cooperate.

He was late.

Rushing down the footsteps of the primary school hallway, the strap of his backpack bouncing against his shoulder, Win kept muttering the same thing under his breath:

“Don’t be late on the first day… don’t be late on the first day…”

He turned a corner sharply—

And slammed straight into someone.

Both of them stumbled back, but Win fell to the floor with an embarrassing thud! His notebook spilled open, pencils rolling dramatically across the tiles. The other boy didn’t fall, just stepped back coolly, like he’d barely been shaken.

Win’s eyes lifted.

A boy with jet-black hair stood above him, his expression unreadable and annoyingly calm. His uniform was spotless, tie straight, shoes shining like he had walked straight out of a school brochure. His posture said perfect. His face said detached. And his eyes—

His eyes were sharp, focused, almost irritated.

“You should watch where you’re going,” the boy said in a low, even voice.

Win blinked. “You—you walked into me!”

The boy raised one eyebrow. “You turned the corner without looking.”

“Well—you were blocking the hallway!”

“It’s a hallway,” the boy replied flatly. “People walk in it.”

Win’s mouth fell open. What kind of logic was that?!

Before Win could throw another argument, a teacher walked over.

“Oh good, Ratchanon, you’re here. And… Phawin, right?”

Win stood up quickly, brushing dust off his knees. The black-haired boy—Ratchanon—just nodded politely. Already the teacher was smiling as if they were the perfect pair of students.

“You two are early! Great. You’ll be sitting together for the year.”

Both boys froze.

Win felt his soul leave his body.

Ratchanon blinked once, expression still unreadable. “Pardon?”

“You heard me,” the teacher beamed. “Seats are in pairs. You two are partners for the entire year.”

Win’s stomach dropped. He had hoped—prayed—for a quiet partner. Someone gentle. Someone normal.

Not this… perfectly rude robot.

Ratchanon looked at the teacher. “Are there no other seats?”

“Nope!” she chirped. “Right this way!”

Win shot the boy a glare. Ratchanon didn’t react. He simply followed the teacher, not even bothering to check if Win could keep up.

Wow, Win thought, he’s already annoying and we’ve known each other for two minutes.

They reached their desk—last row near the window.

Win liked the window. Sunlight, fresh air, a view… but now the seat didn’t feel like a blessing anymore. It felt like a trap.

Ratchanon sat down first, placing his books in a neat, perfect stack. Win dropped his bag a little too loudly, just to be petty. Ratchanon glanced sideways, but didn’t comment.

“Let’s get along this year,” Win muttered stiffly, because he was raised to be polite even when he wanted to cry.

Ratchanon didn’t look at him. “If you don’t run into me again, that should be easy.”

Win’s eye twitched.

It was official.

He hated him.

---

The class went on, and Win was miserable. Every time he tried to focus, Ratchanon turned a page too loudly, or tapped his pencil in a rhythm that sounded like I’m better than you. He didn’t even breathe like a normal kid—his breaths were silent, calm, and absolutely infuriating.

Halfway through math, the teacher announced: “We’ll have a small diagnostic quiz. Nothing graded!”

But Win froze anyway. Math wasn’t his strongest subject. He wasn’t bad, but he needed time—time he didn’t have because he was still flustered from earlier.

The quiz began.

Five minutes passed.

Win had only finished one question.

He tapped his pencil nervously, eyes darting to the clock. Sweat formed on his palms.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed movement.

Ratchanon’s paper.

Filled.

Completely filled.

Already.

Win’s pride cracked a little. That boy really was a genius—smug aura included.

When the teacher collected the papers, Ratchanon handed his with a silent confidence that annoyed Win more than any insult.

When the class ended, Win pressed his forehead to the desk.

“I’m doomed…”

Ratchanon stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “It wasn’t that difficult.”

Win shot upright. “I didn’t ask!”

“You said you’re doomed.”

“That doesn’t mean I want your opinion!”

Ratchanon blinked slowly. “...Alright.”

And left.

Win wanted to scream.

---

Lunchtime arrived and Win sat under a tree in the courtyard, chewing on his sandwich violently. His friend Tida plopped beside him.

“How was your new seat partner?” she asked.

Win pointed aggressively across the courtyard.

Ratchanon stood there, surrounded by students asking him questions. He looked like a prince—calm, perfect posture, answering politely. Somehow he had managed to become popular in three hours.

Tida followed Win’s finger. “Ooh… he’s cute.”

Win choked on his sandwich. “Cute?! He’s a menace!”

“He looks nice,” she said.

“He’s awful. He’s rude. He talks like a calculator. And he finishes quizzes too fast.”

“...okay but that last one isn’t a crime.”

Win crossed his arms, pouting. Tida just laughed.

“Oh, you definitely hate him,” she teased.

Win kicked a pebble. “I do.”

But when his eyes drifted back toward Ratchanon, he felt something tight—something uncomfortable—in his chest. A spark. Irritation, maybe. Curiosity, maybe something else.

Whatever it was, Win didn’t like it.

---

The final class of the day was P.E.

The worst possible time for the universe to make fun of Win again.

Teams were chosen. The teacher pointed at Ratchanon and Win.

“You two, pair up.”

Win felt like the sky had collapsed.

Again?

Why did fate hate him today?!

Ratchanon stood beside him, stretching his arms. “Try to keep up.”

Win snapped, “I can keep up just fine!”

Five minutes later, Win faceplanted on the court after missing the ball completely.

Ratchanon looked down at him. “Are you hurt?”

Win groaned, “Only my pride.”

Ratchanon held out a hand.

Win blinked at it. The sun behind Ratchanon made him look strangely gentle, like his edges were softer—almost warm.

Win hesitated.

Ratchanon said quietly, “Take it.”

Win placed his hand in Ratchanon’s.

Their skin touched.

Warm.

Win’s heart did something strange—like it skipped and stumbled at the same time.

He almost slipped again, but Ratchanon tightened his grip, steadying him.

For a moment, the noise of the gym faded. The world felt too close, too still.

Win pulled away quickly, face burning. “I—I didn’t need help!”

Ratchanon tilted his head slightly. “You fell.”

“I was… testing the flexibility of my knees.”

Ratchanon stared. “…What?”

“Never mind!”

---

After school, Win packed up slowly.

Ratchanon was already leaving when he paused at the door.

“Phawin.”

Win looked up.

Ratchanon’s expression, for the first time that day, wasn’t flat. It wasn’t annoyed or arrogant. It was… uncertain.

“About earlier,” Ratchanon said softly, “I didn’t mean to sound rude. I’m just… not good at talking to people.”

Win blinked.

Silence stretched for a long second.

Then Win smiled—just a little. “Okay. Then… I won’t hold a grudge.”

Ratchanon nodded once. “See you tomorrow.”

He walked out.

Win watched him go, his chest strangely warm—confused, but warm.

Maybe he didn’t hate him.

Maybe he was doomed for a completely different reason.

But he didn’t know that yet.

All he knew was that Ratchanon Veerawat annoyed him, frustrated him, challenged him—

and for some reason he couldn’t explain…

made his heart beat faster than it should.