The bus smelled faintly of rain and old vinyl seats. Warm evening sunlight filtered through the wet windows, casting shifting golden streaks across the aisle. Students' voices blended with the engine's low rumble—soft, tired, fading after a long first day.
Elian and Juni slipped into the same seat they'd shared that morning, settling automatically beside each other as if they had done this for months instead of hours.
Juni hugged his bag to his chest and let out a dramatic sigh.
"We survived the first day…"
He flopped his head back against the seat.
"…barely."
Elian couldn't help a small smile.
"You seemed fine."
Juni groaned.
"That's only because you didn't see how close I was to crying during math. I swear the teacher was glaring at me the entire time—like she could smell my fear."
Elian laughed softly.
But then Juni's eyes flicked toward him—catching the sound. He blinked, cheeks warming.
"You laughed."
Elian froze. "No, I didn't."
"You did!" Juni insisted, leaning closer.
"I've been trying to see if you even can laugh. Turns out you can."
Elian looked away, ears turning red.
Juni grinned, triumphant.
For a while, they sat in comfortable silence, the bus rocking gently beneath them.
Juni leaned his head against the window, watching raindrops race down the glass. His expression softened—quiet, distant, different from the bright smiles he usually showed.
Elian noticed immediately.
"…Are you tired?"
Juni hesitated.
"A bit."
Elian waited. Then Juni added, barely audible:
"I'll have to help out at home later… so yeah. Long day."
Elian turned to him.
"Help with what?"
Juni laughed—too quickly, too lightly.
"Just house stuff! Nothing big."
But Elian saw it—the tiny crack in Juni's expression, the flicker of guilt, the heaviness tucked beneath his smile.
He didn't push.
Didn't interrogate.
Instead, he said softly:
"If today was hard… you can tell me."
Juni blinked, startled by the sincerity. He shifted, cheeks pink.
"…You say that like you actually care."
Elian frowned. "I do."
Juni's breath hitched.
He looked out the window again, but this time, his reflection in the glass showed a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips—gentler, more genuine than usual.
After a few minutes, Juni tugged open the zipper of his bag. A stack of worksheets, carefully folded worn notebooks, and a cracked pen case spilled slightly into his lap.
Elian noticed the frayed edges, the old covers, the taped spine of a textbook. Juni's hands moved quickly—too quickly—as if he didn't want anyone to see. As if he was used to hiding little signs of struggle.
Elian hesitated, then said quietly:
"You work really hard, don't you?"
Juni froze. "Huh?"
"Your notebooks… they're used a lot."
Juni swallowed. A tiny, nervous laugh escaped.
"…Well, yeah. I reuse them. Saves money."
A beat of silence.
Elian's chest tightened—not with pity, but with something warm, protective, and unexpectedly tender.
"It's… impressive," he said softly.
Juni blinked rapidly.
"You… think so?"
"Yes."
A pause.
Juni's voice lowered, unexpectedly shy.
"…Most people don't."
Elian's heart clenched. He wanted to say more. Wanted to tell Juni he admired him. Respected him. Wanted to understand him more than anyone else. But instead, he murmured:
"Most people don't see you the way I do."
Juni froze.
His breath stilled.
His fingers curled slightly around his pen case.
A faint pink dusted his cheeks.
The bus stopped suddenly at a traffic light near a busy street. A group of girls walked past outside, pointing at the bus windows. One of them spotted Elian—gasped—and waved eagerly.
Her friend whispered, "He's cute! Isn't he the new guy?"
Juni heard it. His expression tightened for just a second. He looked down at his hands. Then out the window. Anywhere but at Elian.
Elian noticed the shift.
"…Juni?"
"Mm?"
"You went quiet."
Juni forced a laugh.
"Did I? Must be tired."
But his shoulders were stiff.
His jaw tense.
His eyes suddenly distant.
It was small—barely noticeable—but Elian caught it. Was Juni… bothered? The thought sent a strange, warm spark through Elian's chest.
The bus slowed again, approaching their neighborhood stop. The late afternoon sky glowed soft pink through the thinning clouds. Juni stood up first, slinging his worn bag over his shoulder.
"See you tomorrow?"
He asked, trying to sound casual.
Elian nodded immediately.
"Yeah."
Juni took one step toward the exit—then paused. He turned back, his expression softer than Elian had ever seen it.
"…I'm glad you sat next to me today."
Elian felt his breath catch.
"I'm glad too."
Juni smiled—a small, real smile that reached his eyes. Then he hurried off the bus, splashing into a puddle as he ran down the sidewalk. Elian watched him until he disappeared around the corner.
His chest felt strangely full—as if something important had begun today. Something he wasn't ready to name yet…but was already afraid to lose.