The bedroom was dim, just the soft blue glow from his charger lighting the corners. The fan above clacked with every slow spin, throwing warm air around like it didn’t care anymore. We lay tangled on his thin mattress, the bedsheet half-kicked off, our sweat starting to dry on our skin.

​

Tomorrow, he’d be gone.

​

I pressed my cheek to his chest. His heart was thudding slow and steady, like a drum at a funeral. Outside, someone’s mum was dragging chairs across a tiled floor. HDB noises never sleep.

​

“You okay?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

​

He shifted a bit. “Yeah lah. Just thinking too much.”

“Scared ah?”

​

He chuckled, nose brushing my hair. “Not really scared. Just… don’t know what’s waiting. Like first three weeks cannot book out, right? Week zero all blur, then tekan non-stop. Siao liao. I just hope I can call you.”

​

“You better,” I said, play-pouting. “Later you forget you got girlfriend.”

​

“I won’t,” he said quickly, and kissed my forehead. “I’ll try to call every night, even if just five minutes.”

​

I nodded, fingers curling under the hem of his shirt. The silence between us was heavier than usual, but not uncomfortable. Just full of things we couldn’t say yet.

​

I kissed him first this time. I didn’t usually take the lead, but tonight was different. The way his hand slid up my thigh, the way I guided his fingers under my panties—it all felt desperate, like we were trying to leave marks behind before the army wiped us clean.

​

He slid inside me with ease, and I gasped. My body welcomed him, but my heart was doing something else entirely—clinging, doubting, grieving.

​

“Don’t stop,” I whispered. “Just fuck me properly. I want to feel you.”

​

He didn’t say anything—just started moving. Slow at first, then harder, deeper, until the mattress creaked under us. I held him tighter, ankles locked around his waist. Every time he pushed in, I felt something inside me loosen. Like part of me was already letting go.

​

He groaned quietly, his lips brushing my neck. I arched my back and bit down on my lip to stay quiet.

​

When I came, I clung to him like I was afraid he’d disappear right there. My thighs trembled. He wasn’t far behind. I could tell by the way his hips stuttered, breath getting sharper.

​

He pulled out suddenly, still hard, wet and glistening.

​

I blinked, catching my breath. “You okay?”

​

He looked down at me, eyes a little wild.

​

“Can I…” He hesitated, sheepish. “Can I finish in your mouth?”

​

I paused.

​

He never asked me that seriously before. Joked about it maybe, but this time he looked nervous—like a boy asking for too much, not a guy expecting porn-star shit.

​

I didn’t love the idea. I never liked the taste. But he was enlisting tomorrow. And some part of me… felt like I owed him this, just once.

​

I sat up on my knees. “Okay. But don’t take damn long.”

​

He looked stunned. “Serious ah?”

​

“Yeah lah. Come already. My jaw not made of steel.”

​

That made him laugh, and it broke some of the tension. I lowered my head and took him into my mouth, slow and steady. His breath caught. I knew the spots, the pressure. He was close—too close to last long.

​

He gripped the edge of the mattress and whispered my name once, low and strained.

​

Then I felt it—hot and sudden. I pulled back slightly, let him finish in my mouth, waited till the pulses stopped, then quickly leaned over the side of the bed and spat into a used tissue.

​

I wiped my lips with the back of my hand.

​

“Sorry,” he mumbled, half-laughing, half-embarrassed.

​

“It’s okay. Just… don’t expect that every time,” I said, lying back down.

​

He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me in. I could already feel him slipping into sleep, heartbeat slowing, breath deepening.

​

I stared at the ceiling, tasting the afterthought on my tongue even after I spat.

I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t even sad.

​

Just... disconnected. A bit too aware of how far away he was about to get—even if he didn’t realise it yet.

​

To be continued