Orbit

🎵

Namtan rides her scooter through Bangkok’s streets, the hum of the engine barely registering over the whirlwind in her mind. Her lips are pressed together, trying and failing to contain the giddy smile threatening to split her face.

She stops at a red light, tapping her fingers against the handlebar. The city sounds fade into the background as her thoughts replay that moment.

The way Film leaned in. The soft press of lips against her cheek. The warmth that lingered even now. Without thinking, Namtan lifts a hand and lightly touches the spot where Film kissed her.

A sharp inhale and her heart flips and before she can stop herself, she lets out a high-pitched squeal and kicks her feet up in pure delight.

Unfortunately, she is still on her scooter.

The movement nearly topples her, and she grips the handlebars for dear life just as—

HOOOONK!

The light has turned green. The car behind her is not as enchanted by her moment of gay panic as she is.

"Sh*t!" Namtan yelps, fumbling with the throttle. In her rush, she accidentally accelerates too hard, making her scooter jerk forward like a startled rabbit.

She wobbles, barely regaining control, and speeds off, face burning as she silently prays that no one saw any of that. However, the driver definitely did. And so did a pedestrian, who is now texting someone about "some girl losing her mind at a red light."

What’s up with all these car horns today ruining my day, Seriously! She thought.

Meanwhile, Film stands at the sink in the dorm’s common kitchen, sleeves rolled up, hands submerged in warm, soapy water. She had brought home some leftovers from her bento box since she wasn’t able to finish everything after that kiss.

But if you asked her what she was actually doing…well.

She has no idea since her mind is stuck in a vivid, completely involuntary daydream.

She imagines the way Namtan would lean in, slow and teasing, the way her breath would tickle Film’s lips before closing the distance—

"Next time, I won’t let a car horn stop me."

Film lets out an absolutely pathetic sigh, swaying slightly as if she’s some tragic protagonist in a romance drama. Eyes staring into the horizon that is unfortunately, just their kitchen window while she tries her best to suppress a bashful smile.

She doesn't even notice what she’s doing.

“Uh… Film?”

A voice snaps her out of it, and she blinks, suddenly aware of her dorm mate standing next to her, staring at her with deep concern.

“Hmm?” Film asks, confused.

Her dorm mate gestures to her hands. “Are you… okay?”

Film frowns and looks down.

She is holding a fork and using it to aggressively scrub a cutting board instead of a sponge. Worse, the actual sponge is sitting inside a pot, which she has filled with water like it’s being prepared for soup.

Silence.

Film stares.

Her dorm mate stares.

A single soap bubble floats between them and pops.

“…Oh,” Film says weakly.

Her dorm mate folds their arms. “Are you sick or something?”

There’s a slight pause before she bursts out in a nervous, awkward laugh. “Oh! Haha, No! Totally not! Just, uh… You know, a little sleep-deprived, your typical college student, Haha.”

Her dorm mate just stares at her, raising an eyebrow.

"Right..."

Film quickly tosses the fork in the sink and snatches the sponge, nearly spilling the water everywhere. "Yep! So, um, yeah. I'm good. Just… yeah. Thanks for checking, though!"

The dorm mate looks at her for another beat, expression unsure, but then just shrugs and gives her a small, hesitant smile. "Okay, sure. Take care, I guess."

As her dorm mate walks away, Film exhales a shaky breath. She mutters to herself, sinking back into her thoughts.

"...Maybe I am sick. Lovesick..." she snickers softly, covering her face with her free hand.

--

The following day, the college bell rings, signaling the end of the lecture. Film packs up her notebook, stuffing it into her bag with a bit more force than necessary, her mind already elsewhere.

Her heart skips a beat as she approaches the area. The volunteer space is already alive with people. Some are splashing bold, vibrant colors onto the wall while others are chatting or taking turns setting up the painting materials.

As the professor gestures toward the group of mural painting volunteers, Film steps forward with the others, paintbrushes and palettes in hand. The scent of acrylic and fresh canvas fills the auditorium as they set up near the massive backdrop.

Namtan, standing in the center of the stage with her castmates, tilts her head in curiosity at the newcomers, only for her breath to hitch slightly when her eyes land on Film.

Film, on the other hand, pretends to focus on the outline she’s meant to fill in, but her gaze keeps drifting back to the stage.

To her.

Namtan moves with an effortless grace, flipping through her script, conversing animatedly with her co-stars, her expressions shifting between serious concentration and playful banter. She radiates a certain kind of warmth, one that seems to pull Film in without even trying.

Then, during a scene run-through, Namtan steps under the stage lights, and Film is momentarily stunned.

The way the lights hit her face, casting a soft glow against her skin. The way her eyes shine. Lively and passionate as she delivers her lines with raw emotion. 

She belongs there.

Film lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

She dips her brush into the paint, trying to shake off the fluttering in her chest. Focus, she tells herself. You’re here to paint, not to—

“Hi, can I borrow a brush?”

Film jolts, nearly smudging the canvas as Nanon, another volunteer, enters into view.

“What?” Film blinks.

“A brush please?” he said, beaming. Film, with her usual quiet demeanor, hands Nanon a brush without much thought.

Nanon leans on the edge of the mural stand, twirling the borrowed paintbrush between his fingers. “So, Nong’Film, right? You’re pretty good at this,” he says, nodding toward the half-painted backdrop.

Film, still focused on her strokes, hums in acknowledgment. “Thanks.”

He grins. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Thought you’d be more of a library type.”, recalling the first time he saw her.

Film flicks her gaze to him briefly before dipping her brush into the paint. “I like painting.”

Nanon chuckles. “Yeah? That’s cool. I mean, I can barely draw stick figures, so props to you.”

Film offers a small polite smile but doesn’t add anything. Instead, she subtly shifts her attention back to the stage, her brush slowing as she watches Namtan move under the lights. The way she commands attention with every line, every gesture, it’s mesmerizing.

Nanon follows her gaze. “You know Namtan?” he asks, curiosity lacing his tone.

Film blinks, caught off guard. “Huh?”

Nanon smirks. “You keep looking at her.”

Film stiffens for half a second before schooling her expression. “She’s the lead,” she says simply, as if that explains everything.

Nanon chuckles again. “Right. Of course”

He doesn’t press further, but Namtan, watching from the stage, starts to question as to why her friend suddenly dawdles around Film.

During the break, Namtan stretches her arms over her head, rolling her shoulders before casually making her way toward Film. She had no real reason, just wanted to chit-chat, maybe tease her a little, or just to have her near.

But just as she opens her mouth to speak, another voice beats her to it.

“Hey, you two,” Nanon calls out, stepping in beside Film with an easy grin. “Let’s go grab a drink at the canteen. My treat.”

He winks at Namtan, a silent nudge for her to play along, clearly enlisting her help in charming Film.

Namtan quirks a brow, confused, but before she can even react, Film shakes her head.

“Sorry Phi, I already bought some, but it’s limited, only 2 bottles”. Film replies smoothly, holding up a plastic bag.

Both Nanon and Namtan pause.

Namtan glances at Film, who’s looking directly at her, as if waiting for her to take it.

For some reason, her chest feels warm. She reaches out, taking the bottle from Film’s hand, their fingers brushing lightly.

“Thank you,” Namtan murmurs.

Film just hums. “Let’s sit somewhere,” she suggests.

Before leaving, Namtan tossed a glance at Nanon, whose face twists into something unreadable.

As they were on their way, a voice calls out.

“Phi’Namtan! There you are!” Both Namtan and Film turn to see a co-actress, Pear, approaching with an easy smile, her long hair swaying with every step.

“I was looking for you,” Pear continues, resting a hand lightly on Namtan’s shoulder. “I need help with the script delivery in sequence eight of scene number four, would you mind practicing with me?”

Namtan, seemingly unaware, hesitates before turning toward Film. “Would you mind—?”

Film glances at Namtan, then at Pear, and shrugs casually. “Go ahead. I’ll wait outside,” she says. Her tone is relaxed, but there’s a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes.

Namtan gives her an appreciative smile. “I won’t take long.”

With that, Film walks out, heading toward the quieter part of the building, just outside the rehearsal hall near an open-air staircase. It’s shaded, a bit secluded, with a nice view of the campus below. She scrolls through her phone absentmindedly, occasionally glancing toward the door, expecting Namtan to come out soon.

But minutes pass. Then more.

Inside, Namtan starts explaining a few things to Pear, but before she can wrap up, another co-actress, Aom, one of her closest juniors, excitedly calls out to her. “Phi!!! I followed what you told me about my audition tape and it went through! I’m lined up for final casting for a TV commercial!”

Aom is a cute, petite girl that Namtan treats like a little sister. She’s been trying to enter show business, marketing her cute looks for TV commercial castings and Namtan has been diligently coaching her on developing her self-confidence on camera.

Before she knows it, Namtan is pulled into a tight bear hug. Out of joy for her junior, she hugs back just a little, a congratulatory hug if you may and pats her head, Aom’s arms are still wrapped around Namtan’s waist.

“See, I told you, you can do it” says Namtan. She looks at Aom proudly, Pear then proceeds to hug Aom as well and their chit-chat goes on.

At the back of her mind though, she wants to leave. Really, she does, but the timing never feels right. Every time she thinks she can slip away, someone else pulls her back in with another joke, another question, another story.

Outside, Film shifts on her feet, checking the time.

Ten minutes. Fifteen.

Her jaw tenses as she glances back toward the door.

Still no sign of Namtan.

Her fingers tighten around her phone, debating whether to check on the older girl, she tells herself it’s not a big deal but later on, curiosity got the best of her. She steps quietly toward the auditorium; she pushes the door open just enough to see inside.

And there she is.

Namtan.

In someone else’s arms.

Aom has her wrapped in a tight hug while Namtan pats her head as they laugh at something. Namtan doesn’t pull away. In fact, her own arms come up to return the embrace. The others around them are chatting, but all Film sees is that.

Her grip tightens on the doorknob.

The sight catches her off guard, a sudden ache settling in her chest before she can push it down.

Maybe I was stupid for waiting.

She lets out a quiet breath, stepping back before anyone can notice her.

Her thoughts spiral as she walks away.

I guess Namtan is just kind to everyone, including me.

She’s warm, open… maybe too open.

Maybe I just imagined it—every glance, every brush of her fingers against mine.

A bitter chuckle escapes her lips.

She thought, no, she hoped that maybe she was special. That maybe the way Namtan looked at her, the way she always seemed to seek her out, meant something.

But looking at her now, in someone else’s arms, it hits her.

I’m probably just another person in her life.

And that realization stings more than she wants to admit.

Film swallows the lump in her throat, forcing her legs to keep moving. The laughter and chatter from inside the rehearsal room fade behind her, but the image of Namtan in someone else’s arms stays burned in her mind.

Without a second thought, she rips the plastic bag open, pulling out the untouched bottles, she shakes her head while looking at the electrolyte drink she specifically got, worried that Namtan might overexert herself during practices. 

Her fingers tighten around it for a split second and then, with a sharp exhale, she throws the bottles into the empty trash bin near the entrance.

The dull clunk echoes in the quiet hallway.

She bites her lip, hard.

The sting distracts her from the warmth building behind her eyes, from the way her chest feels tight and heavy.

Stupid. I was so stupid.

She should’ve known. Should’ve never let herself believe, even for a second, that she was someone different to Namtan.

With a shaky breath, she turns on her heel and walks away, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from spilling. 

She refuses to cry over something that was never hers to begin with.

- 🐥See you on the next chapter 🐼-