Between Us || LINGORM

Chapter 18: Avoidance and Longing

Lingling had always been composed, an expert at maintaining control in every aspect of her life. But since that night at the party, her usual calm had been unraveling. The confession she'd made, the kiss she'd shared with Orm—it was as if she had let a floodgate open, and now the current threatened to sweep her away.

So, Lingling did the only thing she knew how to do when emotions felt too overwhelming: she pulled away.

She buried herself in her usual routines. Early mornings at the gym became earlier, her Pilates sessions longer. Her evenings were spent practicing guitar alone, her fingers moving mechanically over the strings. She avoided the campus spots she knew Orm frequented and found excuses to miss any group gatherings where Orm might appear.

At first, it seemed to work. Lingling convinced herself that distance was necessary, that she needed space to think. But avoiding Orm didn't quiet her mind; it only amplified the echo of Orm's voice, the memory of her touch.

Orm, meanwhile, was struggling with the sudden shift.

At first, she had thought Lingling's absence was just her needing a little time to process. After all, Lingling had confessed to being scared. Orm respected that—it wasn't easy to be vulnerable, especially for someone like Lingling, who kept her emotions so closely guarded.

But as days turned into weeks, Orm began to feel the weight of Lingling's absence. The late-night conversations they had started to share, the fleeting glances across campus—all of it had vanished, leaving a hollow ache in Orm's chest.

"Maybe she's just busy," Kwang offered one evening as they sat in the campus café. "You know how she is. She probably threw herself into ten different projects."

"She hasn't even been at our club meetings," Orm pointed out, swirling her straw in her drink absentmindedly.

Kwang raised an eyebrow. "Okay, that's definitely weird."

Orm sighed, leaning back in her chair. "I don't get it. Things were fine after the party. Better than fine, even. And then she just... disappeared."

"Have you tried talking to her?" Kwang asked.

Orm gave him a look.

"Okay, stupid question," Kwang admitted. "But seriously, you need to confront her. Knowing Lingling, she's probably overthinking everything."

It wasn't until Orm saw Lingling across campus a few days later that she decided Kwang was right. Lingling was walking out of the library, her head down as she checked her phone. She looked as poised as ever, but there was a stiffness to her shoulders, a tension that Orm recognized immediately.

Before she could think twice, Orm called out, "Lingling!"

Lingling froze mid-step. For a brief moment, she debated pretending she hadn't heard. But avoiding Orm had already proven to be a losing battle. With a deep breath, she turned to face her.

"Orm," she said, her tone neutral. "I didn't see you there."

"That's because you've been avoiding me," Orm said bluntly, closing the distance between them.

Lingling's lips pressed into a thin line. "I've been busy."

"Right," Orm said, crossing her arms. "Too busy to even say hi? Too busy to show up to our meetings?"

Lingling's gaze flickered to the ground. "I needed space."

"Space?" Orm repeated, her voice softening. "Ling, if I did something wrong—"

"It's not you," Lingling interrupted, her voice sharper than she intended. She winced, softening her tone. "It's not you, Orm. It's me."

Orm frowned. "Ling, I meant what I said that night. I'm here for you, no matter how long it takes. But I can't do that if you shut me out."

Lingling looked away, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. "I don't know how to do this," she admitted quietly. "I don't know how to let someone in without feeling like I'm losing control."

Orm took a step closer, her voice gentle. "You're not losing control. You're just letting someone share the weight."

Lingling's throat tightened at Orm's words, the sincerity in her voice cutting through her carefully constructed walls.

Despite the conversation, Lingling continued to retreat into herself. It wasn't out of malice or indifference, but fear—a fear that grew stronger every time she thought about how deeply Orm affected her.

Orm, on the other hand, was determined to give Lingling the time she needed, even if it hurt to keep her distance. She threw herself into her classes and her friendships, trying to distract herself from the ache of missing Lingling.

One evening, she found herself at the arcade with Kwang and Prighking, the flashing lights and pounding music doing little to lift her spirits.

"You're terrible at this," Kwang teased as Orm missed yet another shot in a basketball game.

Orm forced a laugh. "I'm just warming up."

"Uh-huh," Kwang said, his tone skeptical.

Prighking nudged Orm. "What's going on with you? You've been out of it all night."

Orm hesitated before shrugging. "Just... stuff."

"Lingling stuff?" Kwang guessed.

Orm sighed. "She's still pulling away. I don't know what else to do."

"Give her time," Prighking said. "She's not like you, Orm. You're open with your feelings. Lingling's spent years keeping hers locked up. It's going to take her a while to figure out how to let them out."

Orm nodded, though the ache in her chest didn't lessen.

Lingling, meanwhile, found herself gravitating toward the one place where she felt most in control: the study room. Late at night, when the campus was quiet, she would retreat there with her guitar, letting the music pour out the emotions she couldn't put into words.

One night, as she played a slow, melancholic tune, she heard the door creak open.

Her fingers stilled on the strings as she looked up, her breath catching when she saw Orm standing in the doorway.

"Hi," Orm said softly, stepping inside.

Lingling didn't respond, her hands gripping the neck of the guitar tightly.

Orm walked closer, her movements careful, as though she was afraid of spooking Lingling. "I heard you playing," she said. "It's beautiful."

Lingling looked down at the guitar. "Thank you."

Orm sat down across from her, watching her intently. "Ling, you don't have to do this alone."

Lingling's throat tightened, her fingers brushing over the strings absently. "I don't know how to be the person you deserve," she admitted quietly.

Orm leaned forward, her voice firm but gentle. "You already are. You just have to let me see you."

For a long moment, they sat in silence, the weight of Lingling's fears and Orm's patience hanging between them.

Finally, Lingling met Orm's gaze, the vulnerability in her eyes making Orm's heart ache. "I'm scared," she whispered.

"I know," Orm said softly. "But I'm not going anywhere."

Lingling's defenses cracked, a single tear slipping down her cheek. Orm reached out, gently brushing it away, her touch grounding Lingling in a way she hadn't thought possible.

In that moment, Lingling realized that no matter how much she tried to push Orm away, she couldn't escape the truth: Orm was the one person who made her feel seen, and that was worth the risk.