The glow of the festival had long faded, leaving behind the ordinary rhythm of school life. The hallways were once again filled with the shuffle of shoes, the hum of conversations about homework, and the occasional burst of laughter from clustered groups of friends. Teachers droned on at the front of classrooms, the scratch of pens against paper filling the silences in between.
For most, it was just another normal school day. Nothing more, nothing less.
But for Eli, everything felt… off.
It wasn't anything obvious. His life hadn't suddenly changed. The same teachers lectured, the same friends cracked jokes, the same notes piled up in his bag. And yet, beneath the sameness, something in him refused to settle.
Ever since that night—the fireworks painting the sky, the crowd cheering around them, the way Kai's face had been lit with color against the darkness—Eli's chest carried a restlessness he couldn't shake. His pulse seemed to quicken whenever their eyes met, his thoughts slipping away even during the simplest tasks. And that smile—Kai's calm, faint smile—replayed in his mind at the most inconvenient times, like a song he couldn't stop humming.
So Eli told himself the same thing again and again: *Just breathe. Just act normal.*
He stuck closer to his friends, laughing a little louder at their jokes, filling the air with noise so he wouldn't have to listen to his own thoughts. He buried himself in conversations that had nothing to do with Kai—random gossip, dumb memes, complaints about exams. When they passed in the hallway, he offered a polite smile but forced himself not to linger, turning his head as though something else had already caught his attention. In class, he kept his gaze fixed on the blackboard, scribbling down notes with exaggerated focus, as if formulas and vocabulary words were the only things worth seeing.
---
Kai noticed.
Of course he did.
To everyone else, Eli was the same as always—still cracking jokes, still showing up on time, still greeting them with his usual warmth. But Kai had always been good at watching quietly, at noticing the little details others overlooked. And what he saw now was a subtle gap. A hesitation. A distance so small it could be brushed off as nothing. But not to him.
During break, their group gathered in the courtyard, scattered around a bench and a patch of grass as they unwrapped snacks and swapped stories. Eli laughed along, unwrapping a piece of candy, though his laugh came just a little too late.
Kai slid into the seat directly across from him, resting his arms casually on the table. His eyes didn't waver.
"You're quiet today," Kai said simply.
The words made Eli's grin falter for a split second. Quickly, he forced it back. "Just tired," he replied, rolling the candy between his fingers. "Yesterday was… a lot."
Kai tilted his head, studying him with that same unhurried calm, like he wanted to peel back the answer and search for what lay beneath. Eli shifted in his seat, looking anywhere but at him.
But Kai didn't press. Instead, he gave that easy smile—the one Eli hated for how much it warmed him, how much it hurt to see—and said softly, "Don't overdo it."
Eli's throat tightened. He looked down, fiddling with his pen, as if the scratches in the plastic were suddenly fascinating.
---
The rest of the day passed in a blur—lessons blending together, friends laughing in bursts around him, the clock ticking steadily toward dismissal. On the surface, everything was normal. But inside, Eli couldn't shake the gnawing sense that he was running from something.
Every time Kai's shadow stretched across the floor near his desk, every time his voice rose clearly above the chatter, Eli's heart betrayed him, beating faster, louder, like it wanted to give him away.
So he repeated the same mantra: *It's just coincidence. Just my imagination.*
He smiled when he had to, joked when the group demanded it, and pretended the distance between them wasn't real.
Even though Kai was the only one who noticed it.