The morning light spills over the school courtyard in soft golden streaks, catching on the crunchy carpet of leaves beneath my boots. My muscles are still aching from the workout at the gym a couple of minutes earlier, but I ignore their protests and lift my camera, a quiet grin tugging at the corners of my mouth as I take in the view.
And click...
I lower the lens to inspect the photo, but wrinkle my nose when I realise the shot isn't quite what I wanted.
The composition is a little off.
The branches of the tree outside our school are beginning to shed their summer leaves.
Autumn has officially arrived.
The once green leaves are now ablaze with colour—fiery oranges, mellow yellows and the rare ruby reds. This is the exact kind of stage that nature excels at. One of the many reasons I adore this season. My camera thrives in chaos, and fall is flamboyant perfection.
I raise the camera again and scan the courtyard for something striking.
That's when I see the perfect shot.
Or rather, I almost see it.
My shot is interrupted by a boy stepping in front of the scene, his car rumbling softly behind him. I scowl at the intrusion, finger hovering over the shutter but then my lens adjusts and refocuses.
And suddenly, the boy becomes the subject.
His body is half turned, talking to someone out of frame, the backdrop behind him a vivid wash of autumn reds. His side profile looks effortlessly cinematic from his defined jawline to his warm brown curls tumbling freely. The kind of moment that begs to be captured.
Click.
Almost instinctively, I take the photo before I even fully realise what I'm doing.
Through the viewfinder, his head turns in my direction. Our eyes meet and at first, he looks a little bemused. Slowly, he raises his hand in a questioning wave.
My stomach does a weird little flip as I lower my camera and awkwardly wave back, suddenly aware of how dorky I probably look.
His dark brown hair curls around his face and flutters in the breeze. Even from this distance, and through my painfully shit eyesight, I swear I catch a small smile tugging on the corner of his lip before he disappears into his car and drives off.
I distractedly tug down the strings of my brother's thick hoodie to enclose myself in warmth. I'm lucky Yang Jin didn't feel the need to wake up unexpectedly early today. He doesn't like it when I elope to school in his clothes even though he does the exact same thing to me with my nightgown. I have told him so many times not to wear my stuff, but he doesn't listen.
So, do unto those what you want done unto you.
Instead of my usual weird attire that sticks out like a sore thumb, I opted for a much simpler outfit. The weird outfits take a considerable amount of time and effort which I didn't have this morning.
Music thumps through my headphones as I make my way to the lockers, drowning out the early morning chaos of the school. I spin the combination on my lock with muscle memory and open it to reveal the familiar, slightly faded message: you can do it scrawled in bold black marker across the metal.
Taylor's handiwork.
She tagged it there after my infamous first day. A trainwreck so catastrophic that just thinking about it makes me cringe deep in my soul. Her idea didn't exactly fix my trauma, but the sentiment was kind of sweet.
I start packing books into my backpack.
Then my gaze drifts sideways almost unconsciously toward the locker next to mine. The bland blue door, perfectly unremarkable, stares back at me with all the charisma of stale toast. It suits him honestly. All stoical and quiet with zero flair, like if personality came in shades, he chose bland fog.
I used to sneak glances at him when he hovered nearby. On those days he'd especially look over his shoulder constantly as if I was a threat to his peace. I was in a way since my pestering was relentless.
I bite my lip to trap the grin threatening to break loose.
It's ridiculous how the locker beside mine belongs to the first boy I ever caught feelings for. And now that same boy is blackmailing me into matchmaking him and his crush who also happens to be my former friend.
I heave a tired sigh, chest deflating like a balloon.
What kind of sick game are you playing, fate?
Fate doesn't answer me.
After clicking my locker shut, I hurriedly shove the rest of my books into my bag. Zipping it close with little to no effort, I turn around to go to class except I jump out of my skin as if I have been electrocuted. A yelp bursts from my mouth before I can even register the figure looming way too close.
"Why must you creep up on me like that?" I hiss through gritted teeth, clutching my chest. "Are you trying to kill me?"
Dominic casually lowers my headphones around my neck as if entitled to violate personal space.
"No," he replies nonchalantly. "Have you done it?"
A heartbeat passes.
No apology or terse greeting or concern for my skyrocketing blood pressure.
"Yeah, I'm doing great by the way, thanks for asking," I deadpan, throwing my bag onto my shoulder. "Definitely not having a heart attack if you're wondering."
He rolls his eyes. "We don't have time for that, Starr."
"Seong Jin," I mutter.
Dominic scans the hallway to see if anyone is listening in on our conversation, and then as if we're planning a school coup leans in. "Have you done it?"
"Mate, I literally just got to school. Can I at least get a moment to myself to finish my homework? This is the only time I can do it. And honestly, I don't... I don't even know where Jodie is right now," I end with a lie, averting my gaze.
Truth is, I would really love to prolong this until I'm pressed for time to do it. Jodie and I haven't spoken to each other ever since Taylor and I left the friend group. Even when we are forced by circumstances to sit next to each other in class we don't say anything to each other. It's as awkward as it sounds.
Except Dominic isn't giving me much of a choice in this. I am, and I quote, a puppet on strings being pulled by the puppeteer. That is literally what he said to me the other day, no joke.
Would it be weird if I suddenly showed up and started talking to her when I could have done so a long time ago?
"Stands," Dominic says in a deadpan tone, pulling me out of my thoughts.
"What?"
"Jodie," he clarifies, already impatient. "She's on the stands."
I force a wince out of my expression.
"That's their designated spot, but I'm sure you knew that already."
"Can't I just talk to her in Physics?" I ask, practically begging. "We all have that class together so wouldn't that make much more sense?"
"No," he snaps. "The plan says step one needs to be initiated in the morning. Recess is step two. Our class is after that, which will throw off the whole flow. And I am not in the mood to restructure this entire campaign."
He really treats romance like a military op.
"Well, excuse me for prioritising not flunking my assignment over the logistics of your doomed plan to get shagged by some bird," I retort, drenched in sarcasm.
His jaw tightens.
I can almost hear his teeth cracking under pressure.
"I could fail, Dominic," I say more seriously, grounding my argument in actual panic. "My homework is due today. Don't you understand that?"
He folds his arms, unimpressed. "Don't make your problem mine. I never told you not to do your homework at home."
I gape at him. "Yeah, but—"
His phone rings, cutting me off. He pulls it out of his pocket. One glance at the screen, his face twists in pure disgust and he swipes down to to decline the call without hesitation.
I try not to be nosy, but I cannot resist flicking my eyes toward his screen anyway to catch a glimpse of the person who called him, but the brightness is turned down so low it might as well be in stealth mode.
When he looks back up, I quickly erase the look of curiosity from my expression and simply watch him widely. He narrows his eyes at me suspiciously for a moment, but surprisingly doesn't make any smarmy comments.
"Why are you still standing here like you haven't got something to do?" he finally asks, voice flat.
"I was being respectful, waiting for you to answer your phone before speaking again," I mutter. "You know, manners."
"There's nothing left to talk about," he replies with impatience. "Just go talk to her. Or do I need to visit the library and start printing flyers of a certain lover boy? Better yet, I could make you internet famous. Wanna become a YouTube star?"
My face drops at his threat and I almost feel like bursting out into tears of frustration. "No, I don't want to become a YouTube star."
"Then go find Jodie and initiate step one of the plan."
"Yes, Sir Dominic Lachowski," I respond in a snarky manner, even going as far as saluting him like an exhausted cadet.
I move to sidestep him so that I can go and find the infamous Jodie, but before I can make my grand escape, his hand shoots out and grabs my arm pulls me back abruptly.
"Also," he says, voice dangerously low, "next time you lie to me, at least make an effort to look me in the eyes."
Then he strides past me, his figure fading into the swarm of students.
I groan lowly and shake my head.
Nice going, Seong Jin...
Now I have to go and face the one person I don't want to.
It was awkward enough having to sit next to her in class not so long ago. Now I have to talk to her. Does the person Dominic has apparently fallen irrefutably in love with have to be Jodie Dillon of all people? Does it have to be the person who chose popularity over six years of friendship?
Honestly, this is just my luck.
With a quick stride, I walk in the direction of where Jodie normally is in the morning.
The stands.
This is where the royalty gathers: football players, cheerleading icons, track stars. Basically if you excel in sports, they might let you sit among them... if you're lucky.
I used to be lucky.
Back in my first year, I earned my seat thanks to football. Until Savannah happened and the drama unfolded and I had to walk away from it all.
Taylor did not seem like she wanted to part ways with all our friends, but she halfheartedly left with me. Why she chose me over popularity, is still beyond my comprehension. I'm glad she did though, because without her, I would probably be that kid in the corner with nothing, but books to accompany him.
I hear them before I see them. Loud and obnoxious, just like I remember it. Back then, I didn't mind. I laughed with them and ate lunch with them. Flaws and all, I fit for a while.
Before I get close enough to enter their peripheral vision, I yank my hood down and swipe my hand through my freshly trimmed hair. A few pats to my hoodie to erase any hints of wrinkles because I'm not about to be that guy. The legend of "wrinkled hoodie boy" isn't something I'm ready to carry for the rest of school.
Then I see them.
The glow of morning sunshine hits their faces just right like nature itself decided to highlight the social hierarchy. Even with every trope you would expect in a movie, there is something undeniably real about their laughter, the way their conversations overlap like a game of verbal tennis. Their connection is genuine.
I stride toward the base of the stands, nerves winding tight inside my chest.
"Hi!" I call out, too hopeful, watching the breath fog slightly in front of me.
Heads swivel, all of them turn to look. Some blink in surprise. A few narrow their eyes, as if trying to remember why I'm suddenly speaking to them. And then there are the ones who just stare at me like I'm the gum stuck to their sneaker.
My hand lifts in a shaky wave.
No one reacts.
I force down the panic crawling up my throat and plaster on a wobbly smile. For a split second, I consider bolting. I could just spin around and vanish before anyone remembers I exist.
"Seong Jin!" comes a shout from above, unmistakably enthusiastic.
James.
I exhale gratefully.
One person who isn't pretending I have become invisible.
If the silence had stretched one second longer, I would've probably babbled about random facts while dying inside because, yes, I did just iron out the wrinkles in my hoodie specifically for this.
James leaps down the steps, practically radiating energy, and crashes into me in a full body hug that turns into a spin.
I shriek, flailing, demanding to be put down while he laughs remorselessly.
He eventually releases me, leaving my hoodie wrinkled again.
I fix it quickly, hoping nobody noticed. A quick hair check follows.
"You back for good?" James asks, panting slightly. "Joining the crew again?"
"What?"
"I missed you, man."
"Missed you too," I say, leaning in. "You know... don't tell the others, but you were always my favourite."
He grins. One arm slings over my shoulders as he turns us both toward the group as if presenting me as a grand prize.
"You guys hear that?" he calls. "I'm his favourite!"
"I whispered that for a reason," I groan.
"They deserve to know they lost, Tiny."
I frown when he uses that infamous nickname.
"Sorry, second placers."
"Hey, James?" Riley calls from above, voice loaded with smug amusement. "Guess what?"
"What?"
"No one gives a rat's arse what Tiny says anymore, mate."
His football buddies chuckle loudly.
I see there's one thing that hasn't changed. Riley is still being treated like a gift God bestowed upon earth.
Riley is the football team's goalkeeper. Captain too because, even though I hate to admit it, he's good at what he does.
The locker room kiss was the only scandal he had to go through.
Last year, James and Christian were caught making out behind the showers. The news exploded through school and became the most talked about drama. Some kids looked like they had witnessed a soap opera unfold in real time.
But not me.
I already knew.
I'd stumbled upon their secret ages ago, back in year seven during that awkward winter orientation party they threw for us where the lighting was terrible. There they were, James and the school resident genius, locking lips like nobody existed. They didn't even notice me standing there.
I backed away, promising myself to keep it quiet.
It wasn't my story to tell.
When things did go public, James hit turbulence. Avoided glances. Whispers trailing behind him like smoke. The backlash was cruel in places, textbook bullying for a few months that scraped away at his usual confidence. But then, surprisingly, the football team stepped up and defended him.
When Damien told me about it, I honestly didn't believe it at first. But now, watching them playfully shove him and crack jokes like nothing ever fractured, it makes sense. Maybe they missed their keeper's game-winning saves more than they cared about teen drama. Maybe they actually cared. Hard to tell.
"Shut up, Riley," James shouts with a grin curling at the edges.
"Or what?" Riley retorts.
James barely misses a beat. "Or I'll call Christian to shut you up for me."
His smirk falters. "Christian wouldn't do that."
"Oh, he totally would." James flashes a smug grin. "With his tongue."
His face flushes. "Piss off."
The boys laugh unapologetically.
And James is still James.
The air hums with teasing and camaraderie.
"So, Seong Jin, are you coming back?"
I blink at James, caught off guard by the question even though I shouldn't be. He has asked before. He always asks, as if trying to recruit me for a team I have already quit.
"Uh... I don't really play football anymore."
That's the diplomatic answer.
The real one, I don't want back in to the loud crowd.
Don't get me wrong, some of them are fine. I still chat with a few in class when the conversation finds me. James is the only one who actually seems to miss Taylor and me. According to him, things just aren't the same without us. I have turned down his offers more times than I can count. Politely, with a smile but I always mean it.
Being around Taylor, Edward, and Damien has shown me what comfort feels like. Being around a small group feels much safer and steadier. That group over there? Thirty personalities packed into one chaotic hivemind. The thought of rejoining makes my lungs tighten.
"So what?" James asks, face scrunching in confusion.
"Isn't the requirement to be part of this group that you have to survive an initiation, be genetically blessed or win a bunch of trophies?" I arch a brow, trying not to laugh.
A few of them narrow their eyes. Savannah looks like she's mentally setting me on fire.
"No," James drawls, almost bored. He turns and mutters over his shoulder, "Is it?"
Dry silence and blank stares respond.
"See?" I shrug. "Not athletic. Obviously not pretty. Kind of a lost cause."
I'm honestly okay with that. I don't want the spotlight anymore. I had my fill three years ago. Now I prefer staying in the background, where the only drama I deal with is in my own head or the kind Dominic digs out of my videos and weaponises against me.
Even if I wanted to rejoin, half of them wouldn't stand for it. Savannah would have a meltdown. Riley would sooner swallow glass. A couple of the girls already look like they're planning a protest.
Eventually, Savannah speaks, her tone clipped. "Maybe join a sport. It's not rocket science. Or, better—get some Botox. Might solve your obviously-not-pretty situation."
"Aw, Vannah," I coo, pressing a hand to my chest. "You really want me to come back that badly?"
She rolls her eyes, wordlessly saying, "As if."
"Don't worry. I won't come crawling back. I would really hate to relive sticky drinks in my hair and surprise vomiting. All so accidental, of course."
She scoffs, tossing her reddish-brown dreadlocks over her shoulder, her manicure gleams. Her deep, midnight eyes burn into me with pointed disdain.
I smile back unbothered.
A shield that never fails to grind her gears.
Sure enough, she looks away, irritation flickering on her face.
Then she leans toward Jodie, whispering something.
Jodie still hasn't looked at me.
"If you're not here to beg us to let you back in, then what are you doing here?" Riley scowls from his perch like I'm dirt tracked in on their perfect morning.
James shifts beside me, frown forming on his face. "He doesn't need to beg," he says sharply. "Friends don't do that to each other."
"Yeah," Savannah chimes in, all venom and sicky sweet gloss. "And friends don't steal other friends' boyfriends. Yet here we are, James."
"He didn't steal anyone's boyfriend," James snaps without even flinching. "You of all people should know that."
"Um..." I jump in before the entire stands morph into a courtroom drama. "I just need to have a word with Jodie. If she's cool with it."
My eyes flick to the girl with ginger hair and green eyes that still look like they are lit from inside. She stopped avoiding my gaze the moment her name left my mouth. In fact, she's watching me now with a quietly curious gaze.
Funny, I used to envy her and Taylor. They got the show stopping eyes while I got stuck with basic hazel. Taylor dismissed my worries and told me that eye colour did not matter. But she was my friend. She had to say that.
So I asked Jodie.
She gave me her version of honesty. She surprisingly, reiterated Taylor's point and told me eyes don't reel in boys. Then dead serious pushed her breasts in my face said, these babies do. Her response was both endearing and a little... scarring?
"Why?" Jodie asks bemused, her voice light but cautious.
"Can we talk in private? Maybe under the big oak tree?"
Silence blankets the stands. A part of me almost expects her to break the tension and say something like, "But Seong Jin... there is no big oak tree," as ominous music swells and the school fades into fog.
Instead, she glances at Savannah, who gives a lazy shrug like she couldn't care less what she chose to do with me.
Jodie grabs her bag, swings it over her shoulder and jogs down toward me.
"Okay, let's go."
I turn to James. "See ya."
With my fist in front of me, I wait for him to do our signature farewell.
His lips twitch into a grin.
He pulls the imaginary pin out and jogs backwards to avoid the grenade—also my fist—from exploding close to him. I cover my head with my free hand and then make my fist burst open. We both laugh. The people around us watch us like the enigma we are.
The air beneath the oak is cooler than I expected, maybe because I'm sweating tension out of every pore. Acorns crunch softly under our shoes, but even nature seems to be holding its breath at this conversation.
"So... what's up?" Jodie asks, voice light but tight.
She licks her bottom lip, and it's subtle, but enough to betray the nerves.
We're both clocking how weird this is.
"Okay, first of all," I say with forced enthusiasm, pointing at her outfit as if I've just spotted art. "That look? Totally doing it. The shirt, the trousers, the whole vibe. Where'd you get that shirt from? It's sick."
She blinks.
Then opens and closes her mouth like a fish underwater.
"My mum bought it," she says eventually, voice cautious like she's still deciding whether this conversation is worth having.
I nod. "Cool. Cool."
It's not cool. It's awkward. Definitely awkward.
I shift on the heels of my sneakers, giving her my most neutral, slightly strained smile. She mimics the exact expression but remains perfectly still, refusing to meet me halfway.
The silence expands around us. I consider whistling just to break it, but I don't trust myself not to accidentally burst into a song I hate.
"I could ask her if you want one," Jodie says suddenly, and I latch onto the offer like it's a lifeline.
"Yeah, that would be nice." My voice cracks halfway through, like even it's struggling to commit to the conversation.
Then another silence sets in—and this one has teeth.
We used to talk for hours. Jodie used to narrate her life with zero filters. The things she told me, both explicit and chaotic, I wasn't remotely ready for at first. But her openness chipped away at my awkwardness until I stopped flinching at the word sex. It was weirdly liberating that she was able to be so open about things like that.
"So," she says, voice sharpening slightly, "is that what you dragged me out here to say? That my shirt looks good?"
The edge in her tone makes me blink.
"You know," she continues, arms folding like a protective shield, "you could've just said that on the stands. This whole pulling me aside dramatically for a private conversation really wasn't necessary."
I bite the inside of my lip, heart stuttering under the weight of her pointedness. That tiny spark of hostility stings.
I draw in an encouraging breath and gently place a hand on her shoulder.
She glances at it, brows pulling together but she doesn't shrug it off.
Bless her restraint, because one twitch and I would be halfway to the nearest exit, ready to text Dominic that we need a Plan C immediately.
"Jodie, I have to tell you something." I say earnestly, even going as far as staring into her eyes.
I keep reminding myself that I have to do this otherwise...
Taylor's betrayed expression flashes in my mind, making my stomach clench painfully.
Wariness clouds her gaze and her brows dip down in thought. That's until her eyes widen in realisation and she springs away from me as if I just told her I might have the plague or a virus I can use as a bioweapon.
"God, I knew it!" she exclaims, incredulity in her tone.
"Knew what?"
"You're not actually gay, are you?"
"What?"
Now this shocks me.
"Uh, of course I am." I blink my startle away. "Why would you think that?"
She looks at me for a while as if trying to decipher if I'm telling the truth or not.
I keep my face as openly honest as possible and trust me, I have no trouble doing that, because I actually am surprised at this presumption.
Was Taylor not lying about how the whole school thinks I'm straight?
Should I be worried about this?
Wait, could this be the reason why James rejected me?
No, that's fucking moronic. James rejected me because he apparently loves living in the closet and even though he was probably high when he said this, it was reason enough for me. Besides, now we're great friends, James and I.
"You've never had a boyfriend before and well, the whole school thinks you're straight."
"I'm not straight."
She watches me dubiously.
"Seriously, I'm not."
"One time, I caught you staring at a girl's arse, Seong Jin."
"What?" I exclaim incredulously. "Don't go around saying shit like that, I could get in some serious trouble."
"I saw you."
"You couldn't have seen me, because I don't do that," I immediately dispute that.
Except there was that one time with Janine Ave. Is she talking about that? Okay, I might have sneaked a stare at her arse but in my defence, her arse is ginormous. Everybody stares at Janine's arse. It would be illegal not to turn with her, because that girl has a bright future behind her.
"If you don't mind me asking, hypothetically speaking of course, whose arse was I staring at?"
She stares at me pointedly. "Janine."
"But Jodie, I'm pretty sure I've seen you staring at Janine's arse too. It's not a sexuality thing, it's just a Janine's arse thing."
"So... you're not straight?" she confirms dubiously, raising an eyebrow.
"I think I'd know if I was."
"Oh, that's a relief." She lets out a tiny, reprieved sigh with a grin. "I thought you were going to tell me that you love me or something like that."
Still conceited, I see.
"Yeah, well, I actually wanted to tell you that—"
Here goes nothing.
I hope Dominic knows what he's doing otherwise I am gonna skin him alive and then feed him to the wolves. I don't know where I'll find this infamous pack of wolves, but I'm an optimistic person. Anything is possible with me.
"I'd really like to be friends with you again," I eventually manage to spit out, the lie distasteful on my tongue.
She looks stunned. "Me?"
I nod.
"Why?"
"Well, over the past year I've realised that I miss my other best friend. You know, we were like the three musketeers. You, Taylor and me. Nothing could break us apart and all of a sudden popularity divided us."
She looks even more confused even after my explanation.
"I guess, I'm just not happy with how we closed the chapter between us so quickly. Friends shouldn't let something as trivial as popularity tear them apart. We're better than that."
She blinks to herself in thought.
"And so... I just wanted to tell you that I miss us. Taylor and I are not the same without you," I repeat the lines that I practised over and over again in front of my mirror.
"But," her facial expression contorts into one of bemusement, "I thought you hated me. Since... I picked Vannah over you."
"Oh, I'd pick Vannah over me too. I mean, have you seen her arse?" I chuckle lightly afterwards.
She doesn't laugh along and narrows her eyes at me.
"No homo, though. Just saying."
"Are you sure you're not straight?"
"That was a joke. I don't stare at girls' arses. I cross my heart, but—"
"I don't hope to die," she finishes for me with a reminiscent smile.
My lips mirror hers. "So... what do you say? Friendship?"