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Arm’s mornings had started to feel heavy, weighed down by a restless tension he couldn’t shake. He sat alone in his dorm room, staring blankly at the ceiling, replaying memories of the recent campus festival. He could still hear Tankhun’s laughter, bright and easy, mingling with Pol’s—Tankhun’s new friend from university. The two had been inseparable lately, and watching them together filled Arm with a strange, unfamiliar ache.
He picked up his phone and hesitated, scrolling through pictures from the festival. There it was—a snapshot of Tankhun and Pol, their shoulders brushing, cheeks flushed under the warm glow of the evening lights. Tankhun’s smile was brighter than it had been in months, and for a moment, Arm felt a sharp pain in his chest.
Why does it hurt so much? he wondered, pressing a hand to his heart.
Jealousy. The word barely crossed his mind, but the feeling clung to him like a shadow he couldn’t escape. He was usually steady, the friend everyone could rely on, but these days, the feeling was gnawing at him—something sharp and possessive that made him want to retreat, to vanish. He didn’t want to admit it, not even to himself, but deep down, he realized: he was afraid. Afraid that Pol might take Tankhun away from him, afraid that the closeness they shared—the quiet understanding built over years—was slipping through his fingers.
The next morning, Arm woke with a knot in his stomach. His phone buzzed with a message from Tankhun.
Heading to the music club meeting with Pol later. Wanna come?
His thumb hovered over the keyboard, then he put the phone down, his heart heavy.
I want to be there. But what if I’m just a third wheel?
He tried to convince himself it was just friendship, that he was overthinking everything. But the green-eyed monster whispered doubts that twisted his heart.
In class, Arm found it harder to concentrate. Every time Tankhun laughed at something Pol said, Arm felt a pang of something he’d never felt before—an ache he couldn’t name. He tried to push the feeling away, focusing on his notes, but the images haunted him: Tankhun smiling at Pol, their easy companionship, their growing closeness.
Why does this hurt? Why can’t I just be happy for them?
He clenched his fists beneath the desk, afraid that if he looked too long, he’d break.
One afternoon, Arm sat alone in the campus courtyard, watching Tankhun and Pol approach, walking side by side, comfortable and close. Pol’s arm brushed Tankhun’s shoulder, and Tankhun laughed—the kind of laugh that warmed the whole space around him.
Arm forced a smile but felt the sting of jealousy sharpen. I want to be the one who makes him laugh like that, he thought bitterly. He swallowed hard, his chest tightening. He felt like a stranger in his own friendship.
That night, Arm lay awake, staring at the ceiling as tears pricked his eyes. He wrestled with the storm inside him, caught between fear and longing. I can’t keep feeling like this, he thought. I have to tell him. But what if I ruin everything? He remembered all the late-night talks, the quiet support, the easy companionship they shared. If I lose that... I don’t know what I’ll do.
Days passed, and Arm’s distance grew. He stopped joining Tankhun’s hangouts, answered texts with cold brevity, and avoided eye contact. Tankhun noticed. His smiles faltered when Arm withdrew, and his worry grew.
One afternoon, Arm saw Tankhun and Pol sharing a quiet moment—a friendly kiss on the cheek, a laugh exchanged. To most, it was a simple gesture between friends, but to Arm, it felt like a spark that lit the jealousy aflame. His chest constricted painfully. He fled to their favorite tree outside the library, tears spilling freely.
Tankhun found him there, trembling and vulnerable.
“Arm?” Tankhun’s voice was soft, full of concern as he sat down beside him. “Why didn’t you tell me how you were feeling?”
Arm’s voice cracked as he tried to explain. “I… I didn’t know how. I was scared. Scared you wouldn’t feel the same, scared I’d lose you.”
Tankhun reached out and gently took Arm’s hand. “Arm, I’ve felt the same way. I just didn’t know how to say it.”
Arm looked up, eyes searching Tankhun’s. “You do?”
Tankhun nodded, his smile warm and reassuring. “I didn’t want to risk our friendship, but I care about you. More than a friend.”
The tension in Arm’s chest began to ease, replaced by a fragile hope.
The next day, the three of them met in the campus café. Pol listened attentively as Arm and Tankhun spoke honestly.
When it was Pol’s turn, he smiled gently. “You both mean a lot to me. I’m happy if you’re happy. This friendship—this bond—it’s important. I want to support you both.”
Arm was touched by Pol’s kindness. “Thank you. That means more than you know.”
Pol shrugged lightly. “Friends support each other, no matter what. I want us all to be okay.”
Later, as they left the café, Pol clapped Arm on the shoulder. “Hey, don’t be jealous. You’ve got something special with Tankhun. And I’m here, rooting for you both.”
Arm laughed softly, the knot inside loosening.
Over the following weeks, their dynamic evolved beautifully. Pol remained a close friend, joining study groups and late-night talks. Arm and Tankhun’s relationship deepened, built on years of trust now blossoming into love.
One evening, after a long day, Tankhun and Arm sat on the bench under the stars. Tankhun rested his head on Arm’s shoulder.
“You okay?” Arm asked quietly.
Tankhun nodded. “Better, now that I’m with you.”
Arm smiled, squeezing his hand. “Me too.”
They stayed there, wrapped in a silence full of promise, knowing that whatever came next, they would face it together — stronger and more connected than ever.