The camp buzzed with quiet chatter as everyone packed their bags. The early morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of dew and smoke from last night's fire. Sunlight filtered through the trees in soft beams, painting the ground in shades of gold. Birds stirred in the branches above, their calls breaking the stillness of dawn.
Eli folded his blanket slowly, his hands moving on autopilot. His mind wasn't on the packing—it was still tangled up in the memory of the night before.
"You think it's something you shouldn't feel… but what if I've been waiting for you to admit it?"
The words looped in his head, refusing to fade. He remembered how his chest had squeezed at the sound of Kai's voice, how his heart had stumbled when their eyes met under the stars.
"What do you mean?" he had whispered, shaky, uncertain.
And Kai, with that calm smile, had said quietly, "Just remember—I'll always be waiting for you. It's okay to take your time."
That memory was sharp now, almost too clear, and it made Eli pause mid-fold. He pressed the blanket against his chest, his ears warming despite the chill of morning. The weight of those words clung to him—gentle but impossible to ignore.
"Eli, you done?" one of their friends called, jolting him back to reality.
"Y-Yeah," Eli blurted, shoving the blanket into his bag. His voice sounded too high, too quick, but no one seemed to notice.
He risked a glance toward Kai. Across the clearing, Kai was tying down a tent with another friend, his movements calm, his expression steady. Then, as if sensing Eli's gaze, Kai looked up. Their eyes met briefly—just a second, maybe less—but the faint smile on Kai's lips was enough to make Eli's stomach flip. Eli tore his eyes away, suddenly very interested in adjusting the straps of his bag.
When the last bag was packed and the tents were secured, the group gathered near the edge of the clearing. No one was in a rush to leave. Instead, they sat scattered on logs and rocks, sipping from water bottles or quietly chatting as they waited for the sun to rise fully.
It started slowly—the horizon glowing pink and orange, the light spreading until the whole sky was streaked with color. The forest bathed in soft warmth, and the last traces of night slipped away.
One of their friends let out a low whistle. "Worth it," they murmured, eyes on the horizon.
No one argued. For a while, silence settled over them—not heavy, but comfortable. Just the quiet awe of watching something bigger than themselves.
Eli sat among them, hugging his knees, pretending to focus on the sunrise. But every now and then, his eyes strayed to the person sitting just a little closer than before. Kai didn't say a word, didn't even look his way, yet his presence felt stronger than anything else around Eli.
As the group finally stood to begin their walk back, Eli's chest carried more than just the memory of a sunrise. Kai's words lingered like a quiet flame—steady, patient, and impossible to put out.