The news didn't arrive with a bang. It arrived in fragments.
Juni returned to school three days later.
The halls looked the same—lockers dented, posters peeling at the corners—but the air felt thinner, like everyone was waiting for something to happen.
Elian walked beside him, their steps unhurried. Juni kept his gaze forward. He didn't hide.
It came during morning assembly. The principal's voice was calm, carefully measured.
"We want to acknowledge that a member of our school community has recently gone through a difficult situation," she said. "We are committed to ensuring safety, privacy, and respect for all students involved."
No names. No details.
Just the truth, held at arm's length. Juni's hands trembled slightly. Elian noticed—and shifted closer, a silent anchor. Afterward, whispers followed them down the corridor.
Not sharp. Not kind either.
Curious. Unsure.
A few students looked at Juni differently now—some with sympathy, some with discomfort, some with something like shame for not having noticed sooner.
Juni felt all of it. He kept walking.
At lunch, Juni hesitated near the cafeteria entrance. For a moment, the old instinct surged—to retreat, to eat somewhere quiet and unseen.
Elian waited. Juni inhaled. Then walked to their usual table. Sat down. Elian followed. The act felt louder than any announcement.
A girl from their class stopped by their table, tray in hand. "…Hey," she said, awkward but sincere. "I just wanted to say—um—if you ever need notes, or anything…"
Juni looked up. "…Thank you," he said. His voice didn't crack.
She nodded quickly and moved on.
It wasn't much. But it was real.
Later that day, a teacher asked to speak with Juni after class.
Not to question him. To check in.
"You don't have to explain anything," she said gently. "But if there's something you need from us, please say so."
Juni nodded. "…I just want to finish the year like everyone else," he said.
The teacher smiled. "That sounds fair."
Outside, the bus stop buzzed with the usual noise. Juni exhaled deeply once they sat. "…They know," he said.
Elian nodded. "And you're still here."
Juni glanced at him. "…I didn't disappear."
Elian smiled softly. "No," he said. "You stood."
As the bus carried them home, Juni leaned back against the seat, exhaustion settling into his bones. Being seen was still frightening. But it wasn't unbearable anymore. The world knew something now.
Not everything. Just enough.
And for the first time, Juni felt like the story belonged to him.