From Frost to Flame

Part 42- Friday Morning: The Waiting Game

 "Hey, everyone! I'm sorry for the delay in posting this chapter — I was caught up with my exams and needed to give them my full attention. Thank you so much for being patient and understanding throughout this time. It means more than I can say, and I'm grateful for all your support. Hope you enjoy the chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!"
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Enjoy Reading......


The days blurred together as the week passed, and soon Friday arrived.

The office was alive with its usual Friday energy — meetings wrapped up early, the sound of the coffee machine working overtime, and colleagues leaning across desks to chat about weekend trips. Someone mentioned a short drive to Hua Hin, another spoke of a rooftop brunch. The sound of laughter floated down the corridors like a reminder that the weekend was near.

But Pete felt none of it.

He sat quietly at his desk, eyes fixed on the design dashboard, ears tuned to every sound of a heel clicking down the hallway, every voice rising and falling as people came and went. And with every sound came a faint, hopeful sting — a moment where he wondered if it might be him.

Vegas...

Vegas hadn't said a word to him since that tense meeting earlier in the week. Not a glance across the room. Not a word in the corridors. Not a hint of that sharp, unreadable gaze. All week long, he ignored Pete completely. In meetings, he acted as if Pete weren't even there. In the corridors, he passed like a shadow. Even in the cafeteria, Vegas treated him like a stranger.

It felt like a line had been drawn. Not a line that came from work or professionalism, but one that felt... deliberate.

The days had crawled by.
Monday: Pete told himself, He's just busy.
Tuesday: Maybe I imagined the tension.
Wednesday: Why does it still hurt?
Thursday: Stop thinking about him.

But it was Friday now, and nothing had changed. Not the silence. Not the weight. Not the sting.

Pete felt quieter for it. Not cold, just muted.

"You haven't smiled all morning," Sky said, setting down a cup of coffee and flopping into the chair beside him.

Pete didn't look up. "I'm working."

Sky studied him for a moment, leaning closer. "You're overworking. There's a difference."

A faint smile curved Pete's lips. "I just want the project to be right."

"You always do," Sky said softly. "But that's not why you're sulking."

Pete glanced at him sharply. "I'm not sulking."

"You are," Sky said, leaning in. "But okay. I won't ask. Just... don't let someone else's silence make you question your worth. You're good at this. You're good, period."

Pete sighed and offered a quiet, genuine, "Thank you."

Sky winked, brushing hair from his forehead as he stood. "Now get back to work so we can leave on time tonight. I've got an intern in Marketing to flirt with."

That earned a laugh from Pete, faint, soft, like a breath rising from deep within. It felt like the first one he'd managed in days.

Shortly after lunch, Mr. Day appeared at Pete's desk. "How's the progress on the design modules?" he asked.

"Almost there," Pete replied, brushing hair from his forehead. "Just final alignments and a quick client review."

Mr. Day folded his arms, leaning in slightly. "You've been consistent. I do appreciate that."
He lingered for a beat too long, voice softening. "If you need a second pair of eyes this evening, let me know. I don't mind staying late."

Pete gave a polite nod. "Thank you, Mr. Day. I'll be fine, though. You can head out when you're ready."

Behind a nearby glass panel, by the photocopier, Vegas stood motionless — paper forgotten in hand, gaze fixed on the scene. Not the conversation itself, not the words exchanged, but the way Mr. Day spoke to Pete. The warmth. The faint smile. The way he stood was just a step too close.

Vegas didn't say a word, didn't move. But the tension in his body was palpable — a quiet, unreadable weight hanging between him and the scene he watched.

By 7:00 p.m., the office was nearly empty. The hum of conversation had long died down, replaced by the faint hum of the air conditioning. People packed their bags, waved to friends, and headed out the door. The lights overhead dimmed slightly as the automatic system switched to evening mode.

But Pete stayed. The project was nearly finished, and he refused to miss a single detail. Not because the work required it anymore, but because his thoughts refused to settle.

As the floor began to empty, Mr. Day stopped by Pete's desk one last time. "Need any help?" he offered, voice warm. "I can stay a bit longer if you'd like."

Pete shook his head quickly, brushing hair from his forehead.
 "Thank you, Mr. Day. I'll be fine. You go on ahead."

"Are you sure, Pete?"

"Yes!" 

With a slight smile, Mr. Day gave a nod and left, wishing him a good evening.

Sky wheeled closer the moment Day was out of earshot, leaning in with a knowing tilt of his head. "Have you noticed?" he said quietly, voice teasing. "Mr. Day is very... generous with you. Always checking in, finding reasons to stop by your desk. It's like he can't help it."

Pete waved it off with a shy laugh. "That's just Mr. Day being Mr. Day. He's kind to everyone."

"Maybe," Sky said, grinning. "Or maybe he doesn't mind finding excuses to talk to you."

Pete smiled faintly, brushing it away with a shrug. "I don't think so. He's just a good person."

But across the room, leaning in the doorway with arms crossed, Vegas watched. Not the conversation between Pete and Sky, not the words exchanged, but the way Mr. Day acted toward Pete. The way he smiled was too long. The way he stepped closer than necessary.

Vegas didn't say a word. But his eyes narrowed slightly, a quiet, unreadable tension hanging in the space between them.

With a wave, Sky slung his bag over one shoulder. "Don't stay too late, alright? You're allowed to have fun, you know."

Pete gave him a peace sign and a faint smile. "Almost done."

"Text me if you suddenly grow lonely and want instant noodles over gossip," Sky called down the hallway before disappearing.

The sound of the automatic doors swished faintly, and then silence settled over the office. The lights overhead dimmed a little more, and the room felt softer somehow.

Pete remained. Clicking through layouts. Adjusting headers. Moving elements by millimeters. Not because the work demanded it anymore, but because his heart refused to rest.

Because he didn't want to walk out of the office and carry that silence with him. Not tonight. Not when it felt so sharply like a weight pressing down. Not when it felt like Vegas had taken a piece of the air with him.

To be continued...