(Sam's POV)
Everyone was buzzing—streamers tangled in hair, lights flickering on half-built stalls, and someone yelling about where the paintbrushes disappeared. Last day before the fest. Tension and glitter hung in the air like confetti waiting to fall.
Me? I was minding my own business, you know, playing baseball behind the auditorium. Just when I smashed the perfect hit, the ball rolled off into the trees. Great. The Bermuda Triangle of sports equipment.
I jogged over, brushing past a bush, and just as I was about to curse the stupid ball for hiding, I saw her.
Nina.
Sitting behind the tree.
Not scrolling her phone.
Not yelling at someone.
Not even practicing some sarcastic comeback.
No.
She looked... sad.
Her face was turned away, but her hand was quickly wiping something—tears maybe? I squinted. Was it really her? Nina—the human firecracker?
Forget the ball. I chucked it far away so no one else wandered over. Quietly, I walked toward her and rested my hand on her shoulder.
She flinched like I was a ghost. Whipped around. Eyes a little glassy.
Yup, definitely Nina.
I sat down beside her, slow and casual, like we always had emotional breakdowns under trees.
"Hey," I said softly. "What happened?"
She shook her head, wiping the last of the tears. "Nothing. It's nothing."
"Someone said something to you?" I pressed. "Or did some fest proposal drama go south?"
Because yeah, this week has been wild. People are out here forming couples like it's a romance clearance sale.
"No," she mumbled. But her lower lip was trembling like she was five seconds away from a meltdown.
And I hated it.
I leaned a little closer. "Please tell me, Nina. Now I'm worried. You have to tell me, or I'm going to sit here all day. Neither of us is leaving until you talk."
She looked at me then, red-rimmed eyes full of disbelief. "Why would I tell you? I haven't even told Siya—and she's my best friend. Why would I tell you? I don't even know you."
Ouch.
"But we've been classmates since preschool," I reminded her, half-laughing.
She gave me a tired, almost annoyed look. "That doesn't mean anything. I still don't know you. All I know is you're Sam—the class flirt."
I blinked, mock-offended. "I don't flirt with every girl. Just you."
She gave me that classic Nina stare. That one that could melt ice—and not in the romantic way.
But something shifted.
"What do you even know about me?" she asked quietly.
"A lot," I replied, without missing a beat. "You're fantastic. Strong as hell. You scare people into behaving—including me. And you have this fire in you that makes even your anger kind of... impressive."
She sniffed, wiping her cheek with her sleeve. "I'm not short-tempered. You're just annoying."
I smiled. "Fair."
She smirked. That was a win.
"So," I asked gently. "Now that you know I'm not completely useless, will you tell me what's wrong?"
She hesitated. Then shook her head. "No. I can't. But—" she added quickly, seeing my disappointed face, "I'll stop crying. But only if you promise me one thing."
"Anything."
"Don't tell anyone you saw me like this. No Siya. No Ren. Not even your cat."
I held up my pinky. "Pinky promise."
She stared at my finger like it was a weapon, then finally, with the tiniest smile, linked hers with mine.
"Pinky promise," she said softly.
And for a second, everything else—the fest, the dancing, the chaos—melted into the background.
Because sometimes, the most fragile moments come wrapped in the quietest pinky promises.
🦋🦋🦋
(A soft slice from Siya & Ren's story)
The sun never really felt like it set that day. It just turned into a tired bulb in the sky while chaos buzzed on the school grounds.
Final fest preparations were in full swing—and it wasn't glitter and giggles anymore. It was sweaty backs, loud instructions, wires getting tangled, banners falling off mid-hang, and two very exhausted people trying to hold the school together: Ren and Siya.
They weren't dancing today—on strict orders from the principal and some mutual brain cells finally kicking in. Last-minute injuries were not part of the plan. But despite no rehearsals, they barely had time to breathe. From decorating the stage to checking stalls, confirming class performances, fixing schedules, handling budget slips, to solving mini cold wars between students—it was a war zone disguised in fairy lights.
Even at 9 PM, the school was glowing. Not with romance. With LED strip lights and tired teenagers.
Finally, after dragging themselves through the day, Ren, Siya, Nina, and Sam left school together—bags in hand, hair messy, shoes untied, and souls ready to pass out.
And something was off.
For the first time in... ever... Nina wasn't roasting Sam, and Sam wasn't being his usual idiot self around her. It was suspiciously quiet.
Siya raised an eyebrow but shrugged it off. "Everyone's just tired," she thought.
Ren, of course, had to make a dramatic announcement.
"My house is on the way to Siya's. So, out of the goodness of my golden heart, I'll walk her home," he said, with mock nobility.
Everyone stared at him.
Sam: "Golden heart? Bro, you're colder than the staff room tea."
Nina: "You have a heart?"
Cue laughter.
Even Nina let out a little chuckle—which didn't go unnoticed by Sam, who stole a glance at her, concern still lurking in his eyes.
Soon, the pairs split. Sam and Nina disappeared into the opposite lane, leaving Ren and Siya to walk under the dim streetlights.
It was calm. The type of calm that feels earned after chaos.
Siya, swinging her bag lazily, tilted her head side to side like a sleepy little kid, and asked, "So, Ren, why'd you choose to become a doctor?"
Ren blinked at her sudden curiosity.
He smiled softly. "My mom's a doctor. A neurosurgeon. I've always looked up to her. The way she heals people... it's like magic, Siya. She's always been this miracle-woman for me."
Siya's eyes lit up, genuinely impressed. "A neurosurgeon? Wow. That's really cool. But…"—her grin returned, playful and wicked—"still didn't treat you."
Ren turned his head. "Did you just call me mentally unstable?"
She laughed mischievously, like a child who got away with poking a sleeping tiger. "A little bit," she giggled.
He shook his head. "You're lucky I'm too tired to roast you back, little lady."
They finally reached the gate to her home.
Ren pointed a mock-warning finger. "Now go in, carefully. Don't break into dance moves randomly on your porch, okay?"
Siya grinned. "No promises."
He smiled, watching her turn toward the door.
And for a brief second, neither of them said anything.
Just the warmth of a shared silence. Not romantic. Not dramatic. Just... familiar.
"Bye, Ren."
"Bye, dancer."
And with that, the night swallowed their footsteps, leaving the soft echo of laughter behind. The storm—the fest—was coming. But tonight, was a gentle breath before the plunge.
🦋🦋🦋
As Siya shut the gate behind her, Ren stood for a moment longer than he needed to.
Just looking at the empty road.
He wasn't sure why.
Maybe it was the way she laughed at him. Or the way her hair caught the wind for a second before she turned away. Or maybe it was just that tired comfort—the kind where two people work their bones off together and still find time to tease each other.
He took a long breath.
He didn't want to go home just yet.
Cut to: Siya's Room
Siya kicked off her shoes, faceplanted on the bed, and groaned into her pillow. Her phone buzzed with messages from classmates asking last-minute questions.
Then one message popped up.
Ren: "Did you just call me a crackhead earlier or was I dreaming?"
She grinned. Fingers flew.
Siya: "Wasn't a dream. I was being polite tbh."
Ren: "Remind me never to walk you home again."
Siya: "As if I asked. You forced yourself like a true gentleman."
Ren: "I was being nice."
Siya: "You? Nice? I'd be more scared of ghosts."
She chuckled softly, resting the phone on her chest. A warmth crept up inside her chest that she didn't want to name.
Cut to: Sam's House
Sam stood at his window, earphones in, but no music playing.
He just kept thinking about Nina.
About the tears she tried to hide.
The words she didn't say.
The smile she forced when she said "Okay."
He had this restlessness in him now. A helplessness. He didn't want to push her, but god, he hated seeing her like that.
He texted her.
Sam: "You still up?"
No reply.
Sam: "Okay fine don't reply. Just… if you feel like talking, I'm here. I'll try not to be annoying. TRY."
Still no reply.
He sighed, tossing the phone aside and looking at the moon.
Back to Ren's House
Ren stood in front of his mirror, running his fingers through his messed-up hair.
He looked tired. Not just physically.
"Siya…" he mumbled to himself.
"I was supposed to stop thinking about you."
He shook his head.
"But I chose salsa. That alone proves I'm a lost cause."
.....
Later that night, after tossing and turning for hours, Ren finally gave up on sleep.
He got up, opened the drawer of his desk, and started digging through old notebooks—looking for nothing in particular. Maybe just something that would distract his overworked brain.
His fingers landed on a dusty envelope labeled "8th Grade Farewell Pics."
He smirked. "God, I used to hate group photos."
Curiosity got the better of him. He pulled the photos out, flipping through images of his younger, arrogant self—arms always crossed, smile always tight.
Then his eyes stopped on one.
A big group photo on the school field.
He was standing in the middle, flanked by his friends, soaking in the spotlight like he always did.
But that's not what caught his attention.
It was her—Siya.
Standing on the edge of the group, half turned away from the camera, holding a placard that said "Class Discipline Committee."
She looked so serious. So small. And so... invisible.
He had no memory of seeing her that day. Not once.
He stared.
It felt oddly unreal. That someone who now ran wild through his thoughts like a song stuck on loop… used to exist in the corners of his world, unnoticed.
He whispered under his breath, almost ashamed,
> "You were always there, huh?"
He looked back at his own face in the photo. He looked proud, careless.
> "I wish I had noticed you sooner."
But maybe... maybe he wasn't supposed to.
Maybe she had to come into his life exactly now, when his heart had just enough cracks to let her light in.
He slid the photo back into the envelope, closed the drawer, and stood still for a while—feeling like a page had turned inside him, silently, permanently...