The final lines of the play slipped into silence, and for a beat, the auditorium held its breath. Then the applause came—sudden, thunderous, filling the room like a wave. Students, teachers, and parents all clapped and cheered, their voices mingling in one roaring celebration.
Eli's chest heaved as he bowed with the others, his palms slick with sweat, his pulse still unsteady. The stage lights burned hot against his skin, but it wasn't just the lamps making him feel feverish. His heart hadn't calmed since the moment he'd locked eyes with Kai beneath those blinding lights.
"Great job!" someone said, slapping him on the back.
"You two were amazing!" another chimed in.
"That chemistry—wow. Are you sure you're not secretly dating?" one of his classmates teased, laughter rippling through the group.
Eli laughed too, but it came out awkward, high-pitched. He waved his hands quickly, cheeks warm. "I-It was just acting!"
But when he turned, Kai was there—quiet, unreadable, watching him with that same look he couldn't decipher. Not teasing. Not laughing. Just… watching, as if Eli had said something untrue. The sound of his classmates' chatter dimmed in Eli's ears. For a second, he felt exposed, as though Kai could see straight through his flimsy denial.
After the play, Eli and his classmates poured out of the auditorium together, their voices lively as they searched for a booth or a spot to rest. The sun was already sinking low, casting the courtyard in warm shades of orange and pink, while paper lanterns swayed gently in the cooling breeze.
They walked in a loose cluster, trading jokes about stage bloopers and teasing Eli about his near-mishap on stage. Eli laughed along, but his steps kept falling in rhythm with Kai's beside him, their quiet presence side by side somehow standing out against the playful chatter of their friends.
"You were… really convincing," Eli muttered, breaking the silence first. His voice sounded too small, even to his own ears.
"So were you," Kai replied simply.
Their footsteps slowed as though they both sensed the weight hanging between them. Eli's throat tightened. The words he wanted to say pressed heavily at the edge of his tongue: *Do you remember too? Do you see the same dreams? Do you feel this strange pull, the way I do?*
But fear stopped him. Fear of the answer, fear of being wrong, fear of losing the fragile thread that tethered them together. So instead, he forced a laugh, brushing the moment away. "Well, at least we survived, right?"
Kai didn't respond right away. His gaze lingered on Eli for a second longer than usual, quiet and thoughtful. Then, with a small, almost knowing smile, he said, "It didn't feel like just a play, did it?"
Eli froze. His breath caught, his heart leaping violently against his ribs.
The world seemed to shrink around that single sentence. The voices, the lanterns, the fading festival—everything else blurred.
Before he could summon an answer, Kai stepped ahead, his figure moving into the dimming glow of the lanterns.
Eli stood rooted in place, his chest in chaos, caught between fear and hope, questions and the ache of something unspoken.
The applause still echoed faintly in his ears, but now it mixed with something deeper, something he could no longer deny.
Because Kai was right. It hadn't felt like just a play at all.