CHASING AFTER YOU ( VICE VERSA)

13

Pond's pov

The clock ticked relentlessly towards ten, each second amplifying the tension in the air. My parents’ arrival was imminent, and while the office was meticulously prepared, a different kind of storm raged within me. My gaze kept returning to Phuwin, who remained meticulously focused on his work, deliberately avoiding my eyes. The carefully constructed professional facade I’d maintained throughout the morning was beginning to crumble under the weight of my unspoken feelings. The missing coffee, the averted glances, the palpable distance—it was all too much.  The physical tension between us was almost tangible, a thick, heavy blanket that suffocated the air.

I needed to talk to him, to break through the awkward silence that had settled between us, but the fear of rejection, of ruining what we had, held me back. Yet, the simmering tension was unbearable. Finally, with a deep breath, I excused myself from the group of supervisors gathered in the reception area, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

“Phuwin,” I called, my voice a little louder than I intended.  The sound seemed to hang in the air, amplifying the already charged atmosphere. He looked up, startled, his eyes wide.  There was a flicker of something—surprise, perhaps a touch of apprehension?—in their depths that mirrored my own turbulent emotions.  His body stiffened slightly, the subtle shift betraying the unspoken tension between us.

“Can you come to my office for a moment?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even, professional, but failing to mask the tremor in my tone. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, the silence stretching, thick and heavy with unspoken feelings. Then he nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor as he followed me, the space between us charged with a silent energy that crackled in the air.

The silence in my office was deafening, the contrast between the organized chaos of my desk and the turmoil within me stark.  I gestured for him to sit, my own hands trembling slightly as I took my seat. The air crackled with unspoken words, with the weight of the kiss we had shared the night before, with the uncertainty of the future.  The physical proximity, the unspoken intimacy of the shared space, only amplified the tension.

“Phuwin,” I began, my voice barely a whisper, “about last night…”  My words hung in the air, unfinished, inadequate to express the turmoil within me.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the slight movement a ripple in the already taut atmosphere. He avoided my gaze, his body rigid, a palpable barrier between us.  His silence was a wall, a barrier he seemed determined to maintain.  The unspoken question hung heavy in the air, unanswered, a stark contrast to the intimacy we had shared just hours before. The anticipation, the hope I’d felt just moments ago, began to deflate, replaced by a chilling uncertainty.

“I… I’m not sure what to say,” he finally mumbled, his voice barely audible. He fiddled with the pen in his hand, his gaze fixed on the polished wood of my desk. His avoidance wasn’t anger; it was something more profound—a deep-seated uncertainty, a reluctance to confront the implications of what had happened.  The physical tension between us tightened, a silent, unspoken battle waged in the space between us.

The weight of his hesitation pressed down on me, heavier than the impending arrival of my parents. His uncertainty mirrored my own, a reflection of the turbulent emotions swirling within both of us. My carefully constructed composure began to unravel, the carefully constructed facade threatening to collapse. I reached out, my hand covering his, my touch tentative, seeking some connection, some reassurance. His hand remained still, neither pulling away nor reciprocating, the physical distance between us a stark representation of the emotional chasm that had opened up. The silence stretched, heavy and charged with unspoken emotions, the physical tension a palpable force in the small, enclosed space. The unspoken question remained unanswered, hanging between us like a fragile, uncertain bridge. The air crackled with a tension that was both intimate and agonizingly distant. The kiss, the intimacy, the unspoken feelings—they all hung in the balance, precarious and undefined, suspended in the thick, heavy air charged with unspoken desire and fear.