Only Friends: Dream On.

Many graduates, upon returning to this place, consistently say the same thing: "Fine Arts is still Fine Arts...it never changes." If you were to describe the students of this faculty most accurately, you'd have to say they are a group of eccentric artists who, besides being obsessed with art, their minds revolve around food and...well, you get the idea. This might sound like a harsh accusation, a generalisation, and prejudice, but is it wrong? Perhaps a Fine Arts student should stand up and argue against it themselves.

 

"Have you ever gone back to having sex with an ex-boyfriend/girlfriend?"

 

The question from the younger influencer hit Jack right in the face. The tall, well-built young man with a handsome face froze instantly. His broad shoulders shifted to check whether the cameraman, a friend of the presenter, had actually pressed record.

 

"What kind of bullshit show is this, kids?" Jack turned around, frowning at the two of them.

 

"Didn't you guys say you were going to ask funny questions and post them on TikTok?"

 

"I intended to post it on TikTok," the influencer replied with a straight face, but anyone could tell she was trying to suppress her laughter, which made Jack even more annoyed.

 

"If you ask me the same question again, I won't answer."

 

"What the heck? I've been waiting in line for you to be on the show for so long!"

 

"Then ask something else."

 

"If I hadn't asked that question, would my channel have millions of followers like it does today?" she said proudly, before turning the wireless microphone towards her guest again.

 

"So, are you going to answer, Jack? If you don't, I'll go ask someone else."

 

"Wait a minute, you're the one who should be apologising to me, beautiful, not the other way around."

 

"Hehe, I like it when guys use polite language like 'ka' and 'kha'."

 

The number one influencer, with her bangs flipped, was so irritatingly cute that you'd want to flick her head. She was completely oblivious to how angry the person in front of her was, whose face was bright red. She'd mistakenly thought it was the effect of the alcohol served at the farewell party, when in reality, Jack's glass only contained soda.

 

"Okay, okay, I'll leave you with a question, Jack. If I ask again, don't forget to answer. The girls DM me every day, asking me to interview Jack. It's not good to keep them waiting."

 

She winked at the young man, and before leaving, she couldn't resist taking a selfie with her guest using the back camera. The flash of light momentarily blinded Jack, and before he knew it, the host and her trusty photographer had disappeared into the crowd at the 36th graduating class's farewell party.

 

The music from the stage boomed at that moment, involuntarily pulling Jack's blurry vision back to look. However, the young man crossed his arms and clenched his jaw, as if displeased with someone performing. His sun-kissed skin blended beautifully with the bark of the trees beneath the giant banyan tree, which he used to hide from the boisterous and drunken crowd. He couldn't enjoy his soda drink for long before his spirits were dampened. Jack swayed, almost falling, when two of his friends suddenly grabbed him from behind, their necks locked in a hug.

 

"Let's go cheer Dean on at the stage," Tua suggested, even pulling with all his might as if he were confident he could easily drag Jack's giant frame away from under the trees. But Jack resisted, turning to look at his friend with a look that clearly showed his displeasure.

 

"Why do I have to encourage him? He loves it, being the centre of attention."

 

"Everyone at that event," Jack sneered.

 

"Oh, you idiot!" Timmy, who arrived with Tua, shoved the broad shoulder hard, annoyed at the person in front of him, automatically making an M-shaped face. 

 

"Please, no drama tonight. I've already broken my vows and gotten drunk. Go on."

 

"Go to the front of the stage!" This time, Jack couldn't refuse anymore. Timmy and Tua flanked him on either side as they weaved through the crowd to secure a prime spot in front of the stage. Once they found a good spot, they began performing bizarre dance moves that made Jack truly believe they were drunk, as they claimed. He burst out laughing when Timmy did a somersault, followed by a split parallel to the concrete floor, all while a slow, melancholic song about an ex-girlfriend was playing on stage.

 

Jack, having just understood the lyrics, glanced up at the stage and caught a glimpse of the two people on stage making eye contact while singing. His body, which had been calm, suddenly felt hot, like the feeling of wearing loose clothing and wanting to quickly get rid of it. The young man seized the opportunity to escape from his two friends. Tua and Timmy couldn't stop him in time, so they continued dancing with their other friends, thinking that he would eventually calm down.

 

Jack headed straight to the Hawaiian-style bar, a surprisingly beautiful creation made from arranging old, unused tables from the faculty. After all, the drunkards at the party were all art students, and they didn't want to tarnish the faculty's reputation for creating a lively atmosphere. How could it be empty?

 

"Just a soda," Jack told the bartender, who was also a junior in his faculty. The tone of voice was displeased. The younger student was confused and had to ask again to be sure, "Is it soda and liquor?"

 

"Just plain soda," the young man said, emphasising each point. "Just soda."

 

Just pour it, no need to mix anything. Someone interrupted, speaking over the music.

 

"I'll have a beer, please."

 

Jack turned to look, just as the other person was staring back at him. That exaggerated look of surprise, the kind that even a child actor would find obvious, made Jack realise it wasn't a coincidence, but he went along with it anyway.

 

"Raffy," Jack nodded politely.

 

"How's it going, Jack? Are you drunk yet?"

 

The newcomer smiled slyly, demeaning mischievously like a spoiled, clingy cat, yet those large, round eyes were untrustworthy. It was as if some thought, possibly involving Jack, was constantly swirling in their head.

 

"I'm not drunk. I've quit drinking."

 

"Huh? You've quit drinking?" Raffy chuckled, his dark eyebrows arching beneath his hair. Jack's eyes rolled as if he'd found it a joke. 

 

"Since when?" He didn't like being interrogated. He didn't understand why his own choices were so important to others, but he didn't want to be rude.

 

"For quite a while," the young man replied with a smile. "And are you drunk yet?"

 

"No, I'm just drinking it for the feeling."

 

"Hmm, your face is so red."

 

"Really?" Raffy touched his face, feeling the heat radiating from his palms, and burst into laughter. He quickly used his other hand to pull Jack's hand up to check as well.  "It's really hot, see?"

 

Jack met the other person's hazy gaze, concealing a hidden meaning. This wasn't the behaviour of someone drunk. Normally, the young man knew the game somewhat, so he didn't take offence.

 

"Hmm, it's really hot."

 

For a long time, Raffy refused to let go of Jack's hand, creating a strangely awkward situation. Luckily, his junior finished refilling the soda, giving him a reason to pull his hand away from Jack's flushed cheek.

 

"Thanks," he said to the younger guy working at the bar while taking his drink, then turned to Raffy, who was still grinning provocatively, and said, "Take it easy, man. If you're drunk, you should go home."

 

"Are you worried?"

"I'm worried about the person who has to carry you back." Raffy smiled. He watched Jack walk away until he was out of sight. After a while, He sipped the bitter-tasting liquor, his eyes seemingly lost in thought.

 

"Ing, come up and sing the next song quickly!" The live music changed to a more upbeat tempo, indicating that the previous duo's performance was over. Jack recognised that voice...the soft, gentle tone evoked a strange reaction in him. It automatically made Jack look up at the stage. But when he saw the person who had said that seemed so familiar with the man playing guitar and singing with them, Jack felt inexplicably irritated. He tried not to imagine what they were talking about.

 

"Thanks for inviting me to sing, San," Dean said with a sweet smile, his bright, round eyes blinking as he spoke to the person who was packing up his guitar. The faded leather case and the scattered collection of old and new stickers indicated that this guitar had seen a lot of wear and tear. The other person spoke over the noise.

 

"Come on, shouldn't there be some kind of scene like this? He's the Prince of Fine Arts after all!"

 

"You're exaggerating, 'Prince' or something. Where do I hold that position?"

 

"You don't need a position to guarantee it; everyone in the university already knows that he's a good artist."

 

"You're a real showstopper. Whenever someone talks about art students, your name is usually one of the first to come to mind," Dean smirked. Flattery always pleased him; he never refused compliments. It made him happy, filled his ego, and most importantly, helped him get what he wanted.

 

"Have another drink with me, San," Dean flirted openly, but before San could reply, someone interrupted with a displeased tone.

 

"Are you done, Asan? Should we go back now?" Dean stared at the person who had just entered, standing with their arms crossed, their face expressionless.

 

"Dean, this is Ray, my boyfriend." Ray stared at his junior with a calm expression. Although his face appeared indifferent, his words...

 

"That was a sarcastic remark," Ray said, "he sang well, I was watching him just now. But it's a shame his voice didn't quite suit it."

 

Dean was mortified right there, but he kept a straight face. He smiled and nodded in response to the criticism from the honoured audience, who were none other than the possessive boyfriend of the senior who had invited him up to sing with them.

 

"I'd better go. Enjoy, guys," Dean said, not waiting to hear what the two would say next. He turned and walked off the stage with a dignified air. Even though he was the loser, the Prince of Arts would never let his pride slip. He looked around the crowd for a familiar face before spotting Timmy and Tua at the front of the stage and rushing towards them, even though standing next to them was Jack, someone from his past.

 

"So, is the spotlight on me now?"

 

"Is this normal?" Tua said while still dancing, not paying much attention. Unlike Timmy, who was quite particular about it.

 

"But I just saw you almost get slapped unconscious on stage. You were flirting with his boyfriend."

 

"Why him? Does he want to play the role of a mistress? Typical acting kid!"

 

"I was just flirting," Dean rolled his eyes. "I wasn't trying to steal anyone's boyfriend."

 

"So, what kind of person do you think I am?"

 

"What if he's serious?" Tuo retorted.

 

"No problem. I'm an easygoing person."

 

"You're a dog!" Timmy snapped before turning back to dance with Tua. Dean laughed, seemingly amused by his friend's insult, while his gaze fell upon Jack, standing nearby, holding a glass and with his hands in his pockets. The skinny man smirked and pouted, asking the other man a question to start a conversation, "Do I sing well, Jack?"

 

"I don't know," Jack replied, but his eyes remained fixed on the stage. "I wasn't listening."

 

"I don't care. I can see you looking from up there."

 

"I'm just enjoying the atmosphere," Jack defended. "Don't flatter yourself." The atmosphere became tense. Timmy and Tua slowly lowered their raised hands to their sides almost simultaneously. They exchanged frantic glances, trying to communicate telepathically what to do.

 

"I think I'll go back. You need to go back, too, right, Tua?"

 

"Yeah, you're right," he nodded. "Those who got laid first, got laid first."

 

"Hey, wait! We'll go back together," Dean tried to stop them, but to no avail. They staggered away from the stage in a flash, their tipsy bodies faltering. Dean put his hands on his hips in confusion, but when he turned around, he realised that now it was just him and Jack. The other man was still acting cold, avoiding eye contact and moving further away, refusing to stand close to him.

 

"What are you drinking?"

 

"Leave me alone," Jack quickly pulled his hand away from the glass, but Dean's quicker hand grabbed it in time. Upon tasting it, he realised it wasn't what he thought at all.

 

"Ugh, what kind of crazy person drinks plain soda without mixing it with alcohol? I'm leaving."

 

"Want me to refill it?"

 

"It's my business what I drink. If you want to drink alcohol, go get it yourself."

 

"Nothing I do ever pleases you, does it?"

"Since we broke up."

 

Jack clenched his jaw. The tall man was silent for a split second before speaking his final farewell without even glancing at his former lover.

 

"Yeah, you know that."