Orbit

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As Film walks briskly through the hall, her mind still clouded with frustration and hurt, she doesn’t even realize she’s walking toward the outdoor vending machines near the courtyard.

 She just wants to be somewhere else, anywhere but inside that rehearsal room where Namtan is.

She turns to the nearest corner and leans back against the wall, sighing. Not that she even wants a drink, she just needs an excuse to stand still for a moment, to gather herself but the rush of thoughts came flooding in.

The sight shouldn’t have hurt. Namtan had always been like this, warm, affectionate, effortlessly charming.

But it did.

And suddenly, Film felt stupid.

She clenched her fists, nails pressing into her palms as embarrassment crept up her spine. She had convinced herself that Namtan’s gestures meant something more. But maybe that was just who Namtan was. Maybe Film had read into things that were never there.

She wanted to laugh at herself, but the lump in her throat made it impossible.

Was I just another person in her orbit? Someone she liked having around, but nothing more.

Suddenly, she hears a voice drifting from around the corner. A low, familiar hum at first, then soft singing, unpolished but warm, carrying an easy rhythm and then a distinct thunk of a bottle dropping into the tray catches her attention.

She turns her head, slightly looking over the where the noise came from and there, crouching in front of the vending machine next to hers, is Nanon.

He doesn’t seem to have noticed her yet, too focused on struggling to get his drink out of the tray. He sticks his hand in, grumbling under his breath when it doesn’t budge.

"Seriously? I paid for this, you piece of junk"

Film watches as he shakes the machine lightly before trying again. When the bottle still doesn’t come out, he groans dramatically and presses his forehead against the glass, sighing in defeat.

That’s when he finally notices her.

"Nong’Film?" His voice is slightly muffled against the vending machine before he quickly straightens up, blinking.

--

Back at the auditorium, Namtan finally manages to slip away from the huddle, her laughter fading the moment she steps out of the circle. She checks her watch. and her stomach drops.

Over 30 minutes.

Film is nowhere in sight.

Her chest tightens as she pushes open the door and glances around the hallway but an unsettling silence greets her. Her palms are suddenly damp.

She checks inside the auditorium again, maybe Film got tired and decided to sit somewhere in the back row.

Nothing. She’s gone.

Namtan bites her lip and then her fingers; unconsciously moving to her nails as she anxiously chews at them. Her eyes dart across every corner, every shadowed hallway, searching for any sign of Film.

Nothing.

Her heartbeat quickens.

She wouldn’t just leave without saying anything… right?

She paces at the auditorium entrance when something catches her eye.

Two unopened drink bottles on a pile of discarded wrappers and paper cups in a trash bin.

Namtan stops in her tracks.

She recognizes them immediately.

Her throat tightens.

Oh shit.

A heavy weight settles in her stomach as realization crashes into her.

Film didn’t just leave—she left angry.

And worse, she didn’t even wait to talk about it. A lump forms in Namtan’s throat as she takes a step closer, staring at the drinks as if they hold the answers she’s suddenly desperate for.

She swallows hard.

She has to find her.

Now.

Namtan’s heart pounded in her chest as she sprinted down the hallways.

“Film! Film, where are you?” she calls out.

Her voice echoed off the walls, mingling with the sound of her rapid footsteps. She’s only managed to give a slight bow to the other students who ask her if she’s feeling alright.

With every corner she turned, panic surged higher. Running a hand through her hair in a futile attempt to gather herself, worry and regret are starting to eat her from the inside.

I should’ve left earlier, I should’ve excused myself during the first 10 minutes. I let it drag too long she thought, scolding herself internally.

The corridors felt endless, and as the minutes stretched on with no sign of Film, despair began to seep in. Finally, unable to bear the relentless worry, Namtan slumped over the cool, metal railings lining the corridor.

But even in her moment of defeat, her eyes caught a glimmer of movement. Down in the courtyard, two floors below, the familiar shape of a vending machine came into view. And beside it, two people stood quietly, their conversation and easy laughter a stark contrast to the turmoil inside her.

Namtan’s heart twisted as she recognized them.

Film, there you are.

...Nanon too?

Namtan’s fingers tightened around the railing as she stared down at the two figures near the vending machine. Even from two floors up, she could recognize them instantly.

Film was leaning back against the vending machine, her posture relaxed in a way that made Namtan’s chest ache. Nanon was beside her, casually sipping from a drink, nudging Film’s arm every so often as if trying to pull a reaction from her.

There was a softness to the way Film stood there, to the way she let herself just be next to Nanon.

Something bitter curled in Namtan’s chest.

She had spent the last thirty minutes searching in a frenzy, panicking at the thought of Film leaving, Film being angry at her, Film not wanting to see her, only to find her here.

Perfectly fine.

Talking to someone else and letting him be the one to share drinks with when they had already agreed about it earlier.

Was she not the first person Film turned to anymore?

She stepped back from the railing, suddenly feeling unsteady. Her mind screamed at her to go down there, to interrupt, to fix this, but a small, ugly part of her whispered:

What if she doesn’t need you right now?

Her hands clenched into fists.

- 🐥See you on the next chapter 🐼-