SUGAR & ICE. － lbc

° twenty-two °

After years of being nicknamed the Ice Prince, after years of keeping no emotions other than boredom and frustration on his face, one would think Tin would have mastered hiding his feelings. Apparently, no matter what an expert he was, nothing could escape Pete's scrutinizing eyes.

Tuesday morning, sun cruelly shining, heat inevitable in every location; the two walked silently abreast one another along the long halls of the International department, polished shoes silent amidst the noise of a multitude of voices overlapping in conversation.

Only when they had settled into a class and had taken out their needed books, did Pete decide to speak up, tone casual but a tinge of amusement faintly present.

"Ai'Tin, did your friend manage to go out with the person he likes yet? You know, the one you asked advice for."

Tin gave a sturdy nod, not lifting his gaze as he focused entirely on unzipping his black pencil case and taking out a pen, pencil and rubber, then neatly laying them vertically, in a row to his right.

"He's working on it," he mumbled, lips tight, "Speaking of friends －"

Pete turned to him, curious of what the other had to say.

"Are you," a second of hesitancy, "really close with Can?"

The pale boy's eyes momentarily narrowed in confusion before something seemed to settle.

"How come you're suddenly bringing him up? Don't you not like him?"

Tin attempted to nonchalantly rest his cheek upon his knuckles, staring at the bleak whiteboard as their professor had yet to arrive.

"In fact, I don't. He's an annoying little monkey, but you spoke of friends so I thought of yours."

Pete let out a drawn hum of understanding, eyes flickering to the wall clock prior to dancing along Tin's profile once more.

"So? Are you?"

The question had caught him off guard, and it took him a second to reconnect to their conversation, but when he did he found Tin staring at him, awaiting the reply.

"I mean, we're relatively close," he answered vaguely, shrugging his shoulders.

"And what type of person is he? Does he come from a big family? What does he like?"

It was a sudden onslaught of inquiries and Pete responded on automatic, highly stunned by Tin's behaviour but having a slight inkling about what was going on; after all, this was his best friend.

"He's loud and brutally honest, but loyal and caring, and he's fun to be around," he said, voice dropping lower when their professor finally entered the room.

The two leaned closer to each other on instinct, and Pete continued to talk into Tin's attentive ear.

"He only has one younger sister and I know he loves food and football, but I don't know of anything else."

Tin nodded, face concentrated as he mentally took note of every word, unaware of Pete's eyes strained on him.

"Thanks," Tin whispered, pulling away and opening up his notepad.

"For what?"

". . . For answering."

The boy didn't know whether Pete was catching on to his plan or not, but he couldn't find it in him to really care. He believed that now was the time to gift Can with something. Something pricey and that he'd like. That ought to win him over for sure, right?

The lectures couldn't have dragged on any longer, the hours passing at the pace of sand through a narrow hourglass and steadily managing to rile up Tin's nerves, because what was worse was, that he couldn't think of what to buy for Can.