The second day of Foundation Week rolled in under a bright, cloudless sky. The air was filled with excitement from all corners of the campus — music, laughter, the smell of street food drifting through the walkways.
But for Dylan and Flynn, it was supposed to be a slow day. Their basketball finals were scheduled for tomorrow, and Coach had told them to take it easy.
"Nothing much to do today," Dylan said.
"Yeah," Flynn replied flatly. "I was actually planning to watch the Star and Creative Arts Departments' game later."
Dylan frowned, leaning closer. "Seriously? You'd rather watch other people play instead of having fun with me?"
Flynn gave him a look. "We already had fun yesterday."
"That's our game," Dylan said. "Let's roam around the booths. We didn't get to explore anything yesterday 'cause of the game. We need to experience it, the food, the games, everything."
Flynn hesitated, then sighed. "You're not going to stop until I say yes, aren't you?"
"Exactly."
"Fine," Flynn muttered. "But if this turns out boring, I'm going back to watch the game."
Dylan immediately slung an arm around his shoulders. "Deal. Let's go!"
Flynn rolled his eyes. "You're unbelievable."
---
The campus looked like a carnival — colorful tarpaulins, pop-up tents, and booths decorated with balloons and streamers. Students were laughing, taking photos, and playing games everywhere.
"See? This is what I'm talking about," Dylan said, scanning the area like an excited kid. "First stop—"
"The shooting booth?" Flynn guessed, pointing at the small stall where students were aiming toy guns at balloon targets.
"Exactly!" Dylan grinned. "Let's test your aim, Mr. Serious."
Flynn chuckled under his breath. "Sure. Don't expect too much."
Once they got to the booth, Flynn handed over the money for three shots. He picked up the toy gun, squinted one eye, and took aim. Pop. The dart missed by several inches. He tried again. Miss. And again—still miss.
Dylan was laughing behind him. "I didn't know you were this bad."
"Shut up. It's farther than it looks," Flynn said, frowning at the stubborn balloons.
"Let me show you how it's done." Dylan took the toy gun confidently, positioned his feet, and shot — Pop. Balloon gone. Another — Pop. Gone again.
Flynn raised an eyebrow, half-impressed, half-annoyed. "You've done this before?"
"Let's just say my aim is naturally good," Dylan said with a wink.
Dylan lined up for another shot, but before he could fire, the booth attendant laughed. "Sir, sorry, you already got two! Let's give others a chance."
Dylan sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine. At least I got these for my effort."
He was handed two small teddy bears. He tossed one to Flynn. "Here. A souvenir."
Flynn caught it, staring blankly at the plush toy. "You realize you look like a couple giving me this, right?"
"Perfect," Dylan grinned. "That's the goal."
Flynn groaned. "I regret saying yes to this."
A few minutes later, they passed by a booth surrounded by laughing students. The sign read "JAIL BOOTH – Pay or Serve Time!"
"What's this?" Dylan asked curiously.
Flynn shrugged. "You get 'arrested,' then your friends have to bail you out. It's just for fun."
Before Dylan could respond, someone suddenly grabbed his wrist. "You're under arrest for excessive charm and public disturbance!" one of the girls from the student council declared, dragging Dylan toward the makeshift jail made of wooden bars.
"Hey, what the—? Flynn! Help me!" Dylan laughed, struggling playfully.
Flynn crossed his arms, grinning. "You totally deserve that."
"Come on! Don't just stand there!" Dylan called out, gripping the bars. "They're saying I have to stay here until someone pays a hundred pesos to bail me out!"
"Good. Maybe now you'll finally shut up," Flynn teased, clearly enjoying himself.
"You're cruel!" Dylan pouted dramatically. "I thought you cared about me."
Flynn chuckled. "You'll survive twenty minutes of jail time."
But as Dylan leaned against the bars with an exaggerated sad face, looking all pitiful, Flynn sighed in defeat. He pulled out his wallet. "Fine. Here." He handed the girl a hundred-peso bill.
"Finally!" Dylan said as the bars opened.
"Yeah, yeah. Don't make a scene," Flynn muttered, hiding his smile.
As they walked away, Dylan nudged him. "Admit it—you couldn't stand seeing me trapped."
"I just didn't want to listen to you whine," Flynn said smoothly.
A few booths later, they stumbled upon a stall making colorful cotton candies. The sugary scent filled the air, and Flynn slowed down, watching the vendor spin the fluffy pink clouds around paper sticks.
"You like cotton candy?" Dylan asked, noticing Flynn's faint smile.
"Not really," Flynn said, though his eyes stayed glued to the machine. "It's just... kind of nostalgic."
Without a word, Dylan stepped forward. "Can you make one shaped like Patrick Star... and another like SpongeBob?"
Flynn blinked. "Wait, what?"
A few minutes later, Dylan turned around, proudly holding two cartoon-shaped cotton candies. "Ta-da!" He handed the Patrick one to Flynn. "This one's you. You're grumpy but soft inside."
Flynn stared at it. "You're ridiculous."
"Admit it—it's cute."
"It's... corny," Flynn said, but the small smile he tried to hide gave him away. He took a small bite, looking away to hide the faint blush on his cheeks.
Dylan chuckled. "Corny but worth it."
Before Flynn could respond, a familiar voice called out, "Flynn!"
They both turned to see Nathan approaching.
"Hey," Flynn greeted.
"How's it going? I heard your team won the game yesterday—congrats," Nathan said.
"Thanks, but I haven't even played yet. How about you? How've you been?" Flynn asked.
"I'm doing fine. Oh, by the way, our stage play is showing tomorrow night. Here—these are for you, go watch it," Nathan said, handing two tickets to Flynn.
"Thanks," Flynn said, taking the tickets. "We'll try to—"
But before he could finish, Dylan quickly grabbed his wrist. "We'll see if we're free. Bye!" he said hurriedly, tugging Flynn away.
"Dylan—hey! That was rude!" Flynn protested as they walked off.
"He was interrupting our date," Dylan muttered.
"Our what?" Flynn stopped walking.
"I said day," Dylan corrected quickly, smirking. "You need to clean your ears."
Flynn narrowed his eyes. "You definitely said date."
"Did I? Must've been the wind."
Flynn sighed. "You're hopeless."
Their next stop was a photo booth tucked in a corner near the auditorium. A long line of students waited their turn, holding props and laughing at their printed photos.
When it was finally their turn, they looked through the available props. There were oversized glasses, hats, and stickers. Dylan immediately grabbed one that said "Boyfriend 💖" and another hand-shaped sticker pointing to the side.
"You're not actually going to use that," Flynn said in disbelief.
"I am," Dylan said cheerfully, slapping the hand sticker onto his shirt. "You hold this one."
"No way."
"Come on, it's just for fun."
Flynn shook his head. "Dylan—"
But before he could finish, Dylan grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the booth. "Too late!"
Inside, the screen flashed "4 Shots – Get Ready!"
"Wait, what do we do?!" Flynn asked just as the first flash went off.
Click!
The photo showed them both looking utterly unprepared—Flynn wide-eyed, Dylan mid-laugh.
"Great," Flynn muttered. "We look stupid."
"Perfectly stupid together," Dylan joked.
For the second shot, Flynn reluctantly held the "Boyfriend" sticker while Dylan positioned the hand sign sticker so that it pointed directly at Flynn.
Both of them were still holding their cotton candies—Flynn's shaped like Patrick and Dylan's like SpongeBob—which made the photo look even more ridiculous and endearing at the same time.
Click!
"See?" Dylan grinned. "Now everyone will know who my—"
"Don't finish that sentence," Flynn warned.
For the third shot, Flynn stayed in the same pose, his expression deadpan. Dylan, however, turned toward him, watching him with a quiet, amused look.
As he stared, a fleeting thought crossed his mind—Flynn's face seemed strangely familiar, like he'd seen him somewhere before—but try as he might, Dylan couldn't place when or where. He shook the thought off, deciding not to dwell on it and focused back on the moment instead.
Then came the last countdown.
"Three, two—"
Before Flynn could react, Dylan leaned in and pressed a quick kiss on his cheek.
Flash.
Flynn froze. His eyes went wide. Then, instinctively, he pushed Dylan slightly away, hand flying to his cheek. "What the hell, Dylan?!"
Dylan just laughed, holding up his hands. "It's just for the photo!"
"You're unbelievable," Flynn said, glaring at him—though his ears were visibly red.
Moments later, the machine whirred and printed out their photos. Flynn reached for the strip, but Dylan snatched it first.
"Give me that!" Flynn demanded.
"Nope. You'll just tear it up," Dylan said, holding it out of reach.
"Dylan, I'm serious."
"So am I," Dylan replied, grinning as he backed away. "This one's going in my wallet."
Flynn groaned. "You're impossible."
Dylan only laughed, tucking the photo safely into his pocket.
Flynn sighed, shaking his head as they walked away from the booth. But despite his protests, he couldn't hide the faint smile playing at his lips.
That afternoon ended with them sitting on a bench under the shade of a tree, the noise of the festival still buzzing faintly in the distance.
Flynn was quietly eating the last bits of his cotton candy while Dylan leaned back, watching him.
"What are you staring at?" Flynn asked without looking up.
"You," Dylan said honestly. "You're fun when you're not pretending you're not having fun."
Flynn rolled his eyes. "You're reading too much into things."
"Maybe." Dylan smiled. "But you did have fun, right?"
Flynn hesitated for a moment, then exhaled softly. "Yeah... maybe I did."
Dylan's grin widened, satisfied. "That's all I needed to hear."
Flynn didn't answer, but a quiet chuckle escaped him. He hated to admit it, but Dylan's presence had a way of making everything around him a little less heavy.