Chapter 10 — Icebergs Also Know Red Eyes

To Niem looked at me like I was an alien: "What are you doing? Aren't you trying to lose weight?"

“No more reduction.”

“Yesterday you didn't tell me to continue, did you?”

“Changed my mind today.”

“Is it because of what I told you yesterday—”

“Not relevant.”

To Niem was silent for a moment, sat down on the edge of my bed: "Khuong Loc, what are you hiding from?" I held the box of noodles, chopsticks stirred wildly, not saying a word. Am I hiding something? I'm avoiding the truth — maybe I like him already. Not “perhaps”. Which is certain. I don't know when it started. Maybe it was the first time he helped me with a cup of milk tea, maybe it was the time he made his own pan-fried chicken breast, or maybe it was the moment his eyes turned red in the cafeteria. But my original motive for pursuing him was fake. From the beginning I took advantage of you. His feelings for me were real, starting from freshman year. As for me liking you, I don't even know when it started. This isn't fair. I don't deserve it.

“You're thinking too much.” To Niem saw right through my heart, "You're the type whose brain moves quickly but always turns into dead ends."

“I lied to him, To Niem.”

“What are you cheating?”

"My purpose of flirting with him is fake."

“So what was the result?” To Niem asked back, "As a result, do you like him now?"

I said nothing.

“The motive is fake, but the feelings are real now, which do you think is more important?”

I'm still speechless. To Niem sighed deeply and stood up: "It's up to you, but I tell you, my brother's current condition is not good."

“What is it?”

"Today you didn't go to the stadium or go to lunch, he texted me six messages asking what was wrong with you. My brother has never texted like that in a row before."

I tightened my chopsticks.

“He thought you were going to break up, really break up.” To Niem walked out the door, looked back at me, "Khuong Loc, if you think it through, go find him. If you don't understand, go find him - don't leave him alone to think wildly. That person keeps burying everything in his heart and will get sick."

The door closes. I sat on the bed, the box of noodles was bulging. When I turned on my phone, messages suddenly popped out. To Nghien: *Let's eat together at noon.* To Nghien: *I'll make beef stew with tomatoes, low fat.* To Nghien: *Khuong Loc?* To Nghien: *Are you angry.* To Nghien: *Because of yesterday?* To Nghien: *Is there something to tell you.* The last news was ten minutes ago. To Nghien: *I'm downstairs in your dormitory.* I jumped up like a spring and rushed to the window to look down. He was standing next to the flower bed downstairs, wearing a black hoodie, carrying a thermal bag. In the blazing midday sun, he raised his head and looked up, not knowing which floor window he was looking for. I pulled my head back, my heart pounding into my throat. Where did To Niem go? I didn't notice when he left. The phone vibrates again. To Nghien: *Come down here.* Two short words. I stood by the window, my hands shaking. Taking a deep breath, I put on my shoes and ran downstairs. Pushing open the dormitory door, the sunlight was blinding. He stood three meters away, saw me step out, his eyes seemed to be fixed. Thermal bag is carried in one hand, the other hand is in the pocket of the pants, the posture is straight.

“You avoid me.” he said. Not a question.

“No.”

“Start from Yesterday afternoon, I was not normal.”

I held on tightly to the door handle and didn't let go.

“What did To Niem say to you?” He took a step forward.

“Nothing—”

“Khuong Loc.” He took another step forward, now the distance between them was less than a meter, "Look at me."

I raised my head. There was no longer the panic in his eyes like in the cafeteria the day before. Instead there was something else — very quiet, very serious, as if he had made up his mind about something.