The echo of bouncing basketballs filled the gym, the sharp squeak of sneakers and the loud shouts of the team blending together into a familiar chaos. Bangchan wiped the sweat from his forehead, catching his breath before the next drill—until something on the far side of the gym made him freeze.

You.

Marching toward him. With fire in your eyes. And a lunch box clutched in your hand like a weapon.

A slow grin crept over his face. Of course.

He had forgotten his lunch again. And of course his mother had sent you to bring it. Again.

“Uh-oh,” one of his teammates muttered under his breath. “She looks pissed.”

Bangchan chuckled, tossing the ball to a teammate and jogging toward you, his messy hair sticking to his forehead, his jersey clinging to him with sweat.

You didn’t wait for him to reach you—your voice rang across the gym the moment he got close. “BANG CHAN! I swear, if you forget this lunch box one more time—”

He stopped in front of you, hands on his hips, still grinning like an idiot. “What? You’ll bring it to me again?” he teased, leaning slightly closer.

Your glare sharpened. “No, you big-headed goldfish, I’ll throw it at your face next time.”

His teammates snickered behind him. Coach pretended not to see.

Bangchan only laughed, the sound warm in the noisy gym. He took the lunch box from your hand, brushing your fingers lightly without meaning to. “Thanks. Really. I mean it.”

Your heart did that annoying skip it always did when he smiled like that—but you cleared your throat and crossed your arms, covering it with an eye roll. “You’re lucky your mom guilt-tripped me. Otherwise you’d be starving right now, Captain Forgetful.”

Bangchan leaned in, lowering his voice just enough that only you could hear. “You’d never let me starve.”

You opened your mouth to snap back—but nothing came out. Because damn it, he was right.

And somehow, that stupid grin of his made your chest feel warm in a way friendship wasn’t supposed to.