The next day felt different.
Mike noticed it the moment he stepped into school.
It wasn't loud or obvious. Nothing had changed on the surface—students still rushed through hallways, teachers still complained about late assignments, the bell still rang with the same dull impatience.
But something sat heavy in his chest.
Anticipation.
Jane arrived a few minutes late to class, slipping in quietly just as the teacher turned back to the board. She met Mike's eyes for a second and smiled, small and quick, before taking her seat by the window.
Mike smiled back before he could stop himself , Blushing inside .
This time, he didn't look away.
Classes dragged on painfully slow.
Mike kept checking the clock, watching the minutes crawl by. He tried focusing—he really did—but his thoughts kept drifting to the evening.
The school event.
It wasn't even a big thing. Just some annual fair on campus—lights, food stalls, music playing from cheap speakers. They'd gone before, years ago, when everything between them was simple.
Before things became… complicated.
Jane turned around once during class, passing him a folded piece of paper when the teacher wasn't looking.
Mike unfolded it carefully.
"You're still coming, right?"
He glanced up. Jane was pretending to take notes, but the corner of her mouth twitched like she was trying not to smile.
Mike wrote back.
"Yeah. I'll wait for you."
She read it. Her smile this time was unmistakable.
By the time the final bell rang, the sky had already started to soften into evening.
Students poured out of classrooms, excited chatter filling the air. The school grounds slowly transformed—string lights flickered on, stalls were set up, music hummed faintly in the distance.
Mike stood near the entrance, hands shoved into his pockets, pretending he wasn't nervous.
He spotted Jane walking toward him.
She looked… different.
Not dramatically. No fancy clothes. Just her hair loose instead of tied back, her uniform neat in a way that felt intentional. She looked like herself—but like she'd tried.
And that somehow made it worse.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey."
For a second, they just stood there, facing each other, unsure of who should move first.
"So," Jane said lightly, "where do we start?"
Mike nodded toward the lights. "There's food first. Always food."
She laughed. "Good choice."
They walked side by side through the fair.
It felt easy at first—laughing at stupid games, sharing fries, complaining about the music. Just like old times.
But underneath it all, Mike felt it.
That space.
Not distance.
Awareness.
Every time their hands brushed, it lingered. Every time Jane laughed, Mike found himself watching her instead of whatever she was pointing at.
At one point, they stopped near a quieter corner of the grounds. The noise faded slightly, replaced by soft music and distant voices.
Jane leaned against the railing, looking out at the lights.
"Do you ever miss how things used to be?" she asked suddenly.
Mike hesitated. "What do you mean?"
She shrugged. "When everything felt… easier."
He knew what she meant.
"Yeah," he said honestly. "I do."
Jane nodded. "Me too."
The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable. It was full. Heavy with things neither of them knew how to say.
"Mike," Jane said quietly, turning to face him. "Can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
She hesitated. Her fingers tightened around the railing. "Why do you always pull away when it feels like we're getting closer?"
The question hit harder than he expected.
"I don't," he said automatically.
Jane looked at him—not accusing, not angry. Just honest. "You do."
Mike looked down at the ground.
"I'm just… scared," he admitted.
Jane blinked. "Of what?"
"Of ruining this," he said. "Of losing you."
Jane's expression softened.
"You won't lose me," she said.
Mike met her eyes. "You don't know that."
She stepped closer—close enough that he could hear her breathing.
"Mike," she said gently, "I'm right here."
For a moment, it felt like the entire world narrowed down to the space between them.
He could close it.
He wanted to.
But then someone shouted nearby, laughter breaking the moment apart like shattered glass.
Jane stepped back.
They both exhaled, almost at the same time.
Later, as the fair began to quiet down, they walked toward the exit together.
"I have forgotten some of my stuff in locker ", Mike said , nervously "Jane... um.. will you come with me to take that , then we will leave together?"
"Yeah let's go," Jane said
Reached hallway near lockers.
Mike taked out some of his book and pens .
" It looks good , when it's quiet, " Jane said .
"what," Mike said .
"The hallway "
"ohh! Yeah true" Mike said
They were close to each other .
"We are good friends now, " Jane said quietly.
"Yup we are" Mike said acting fool .
The hallway felt smaller than before.
Mike stopped walking. Jane did too.
Neither of them spoke.
He became suddenly aware of how close she was.
Too close.
Both can hear each other's breathings , they were almost kissing, couldn't stop, pretending not to feel it , but suddenly laughter of a group sounded near by them .
Both looked at each other , awkwardly and taking some distance.
"We should go now," Mike said awkwardly.
"yeah"
After that silence remained, both are embarrassed, thinking it was there mistake — still can't accept the feelings .
With awkward silence, softly .
"I had fun," Jane said. Breaking awkwardness pretending — Nothing happened.
"Me too." Mike said with a smile .
They stopped near the gate.
Jane shifted her bag on her shoulder. "I'm glad you stayed."
"So am I," Mike replied.
She smiled, softer than before. "Goodnight, Mike."
"Goodnight, Jane."
She turned and walked away.
Mike watched until she disappeared into the crowd.
He didn't touch her hand.
He didn't say the words.
But for the first time, he didn't run either.
That night, Jane lay awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying the evening over and over again.
How close they'd been , in the hallway and in the fair .
How real it felt.
Across town, Mike stared at his phone, Jane's name glowing on the screen as he typed—and erased—the same message again and again.
Some feelings didn't need to be rushed.
But they couldn't be ignored forever.