Liam's POV
Prom night was louder than I expected. Yep. I never expected it to be so noisy.
Not in a bad way though.
Just… full. Like overwhelmingly full.
Too many people trying to act like they weren't about to leave everything behind after this.
Music pulsing through the hall. Lights soft but constantly shifting. People laughing a little too hard, dancing like they were trying to prove something to time itself.
I stood near the side for a moment, just taking it in.
Jake and Nena were already exactly where you'd expect them to be.
Together.
Close.
Too comfortable for two people who used to argue like it was a sport.
Jake had that smug expression again—like he'd won something invisible.
Nena, of course, looked like she didn't care… but she absolutely did.
They were dancing, slow and casual, like the world had decided to arrange itself around their ego.
I sighed.
"…Of course."
Mark and Luca were a different story.
Mark was calm as always, standing with Luca, who was holding his hand.
Except—
Luca wasn't just holding it.
He was negotiating with it.
Tugging slightly.
Shaking it.
Like if he applied enough emotional pressure, Mark would agree to let go.
Mark, somehow, remained unbothered.
"…Stop shaking my hand," Mark said flatly.
"I'm testing if it's real," Luca replied.
"It's real."
"It feels fake."
"It is not fake."
Luca paused.
"…Suspicious."
I let out a small laugh.
Then looked around again.
Emma was somewhere near the dance floor, her blonde hair tied back neatly, moving easily with the music.
She looked good.
Confident.
Natural.
And she was dancing.
Of course she was.
She always looked like she belonged anywhere she stood.
And then—
I noticed it.
Ayana and Ethan weren't there.
I frowned slightly.
"…Where did they go?"
No answer.
Of course no answer.
Everyone was too busy being in their own worlds.
I exhaled.
Then someone tapped my shoulder.
Emma.
She smiled.
"Dance with me."
I blinked.
"…That sounded like a command."
"It was."
"…Okay then."
We stepped onto the dance floor.
Music slower now.
Soft enough to make everything feel less chaotic.
We danced.
Not dramatically.
Just… moving with the rhythm.
Her hands light.
Mine awkward.
She laughed at me once.
I frowned.
"…I'm trying."
"I can tell," she said, still smiling.
After a while, it got quieter between us.
Not uncomfortable.
Just… real.
"I think everyone's going to disappear after this," she said softly.
I nodded.
"…Yeah."
A pause then I added.
"…You okay with that?"
She shrugged.
"I think I have to be."
I looked at her.
Then said it.
Because apparently my brain decided this was the moment.
"…I like you Emma."
She blinked.
Stopped dancing for half a second.
"…That was random. And Really?"
"I know. Yes."
She smiled slowly.
"…You could've prepared a speech. Or something emotional. I wrote a letter."
"I did. It was worse."
That made her laugh.
Then she leaned slightly closer.
"Liam?"
"Yeah?"
"You're cute when you're honest."
I blinked.
"…That's not a yes or no."
"It's a maybe."
"…A Maybe?''
"It's definitely a Yes. From the start."
"I'm Glad"
We kept dancing.
And then Nena's voice cut through everything.
"GROUP PHOTO!"
Instant chaos Everyone was either avoiding it or was trying to force it.
Everyone started moving.
Jake grabbed Nena's hand immediately, pulling her closer like it was instinct.
Mark stood still until Luca practically latched onto his arm again.
Emma stepped back toward the group, laughing.
I walked with Emma back toward the center.
Everyone started arranging themselves.
Nena in the middle, of course.
Jake right beside her, smug as always.
Mark standing calmly with Luca still holding his hand like a lifeline.
Emma next to me, still smiling.
Me slightly behind, just watching everyone settle.
---------------
Ethan's POV
I knew I was in trouble the moment she took off her shoes.
It was such a small thing.
Normal.
Ayana always did things like that—quiet, careless, like the world wasn't something she needed permission from.
But tonight…
it felt like something I needed to remember.
The river moved slowly in front of us.
Soft.
Endless.
Like time had decided to show off.
She stood there, holding her shoes in one hand, hair moving with the wind like it didn't belong to her—it belonged to the night.
And I thought—
This is the kind of moment people forget to appreciate until it's gone.
"…This is nicer than chaos," she said.
I looked at her.
"Less noisy."
What I didn't say was—
It's easier to hear you like this.
She asked "Did you planned it."
I said "yes."
Because I did.
Because I wanted one place that didn't belong to anyone else.
Just us.
Then she said it.
"You're really leaving."
And everything in me went quiet.
Not because I didn't know.
Not because I wasn't ready.
But because hearing it from her made it… real in a way I couldn't ignore.
"Yeah," I said.
Simple.
Because if I said more—
I might not stop.
She said four years was a long time.
She was right.
It is.
Long enough to forget things.
Long enough to grow into someone else.
Long enough to come back and realize nothing fits the same way anymore.
"A lot can change," she said.
I looked at her.
You will.
I will.
Everything will.
But I didn't say that.
I said—
"Some things won't."
Because I needed to believe that.
Even if I wasn't completely sure.
When she asked—
"What if I forget you?"
That one hurt.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just… quiet.
Like something pressing against my chest.
I stepped closer.
Not because I planned to.
Because staying where I was suddenly felt too far.
"You won't," I said.
It wasn't logic.
It wasn't certainty.
It was hope.
And hope sounds a lot like confidence when you don't let your voice shake.
She said she wasn't sure.
And for a second—
I almost told her I wasn't either.
But I didn't.
Because she already carries enough of the fear.
She doesn't need mine too.
"That's okay," I said.
Because it is.
It has to be.
She laughs differently when she's trying not to feel something.
I've noticed that.
It's softer.
Shorter.
Like she's saving the rest of it for later.
The wind moved her hair again.
And I watched it.
Not because of the wind.
Because of her.
There are things you don't say out loud.
Not because they're not true.
But because once you say them—
they exist somewhere outside of you.
And I wasn't ready to risk that yet.
"I'll call," I said.
Because that I can promise.
"I won't disappear."
Because that I can control.
But when she asked—
"Promise?"
That word is dangerous.
People use it like it's easy.
Like time listens to promises.
Like distance respects them.
I thought about it.
About everything I don't know.
Everything I can't control.
Everything that could change.
"I'll try my best."
That was the most honest thing I had.
And somehow—
it felt more real than any promise I could've made.
She accepted it.
Just like that.
And that hurt too.
Because it means she understands.
When she said she didn't expect her life to turn out like this—
I almost laughed.
Because neither did I.
I didn't expect her.
"…You're part of 'everything'?" I asked.
Because I needed to hear it.
Even if she said it in her way.
"Unfortunately."
I smiled.
Because that's her.
She never gives anything fully.
But she never takes it back either.
Then she said it was scary.
Liking something this much.
And that—
that almost broke me.
Because I feel it too.
I just don't say it.
"It doesn't mean it ends," I told her.
I don't know if that's true.
But I need it to be.
We stood closer now.
Too close for this to be nothing.
Not close enough for it to be everything.
She looked at me.
And for a second—
I forgot everything else.
The leaving.
The time.
The distance.
There was just her.
And the space between us that felt like it was asking a question neither of us knew how to answer.
She didn't move.
Neither did I.
And I thought—
If I do this now…
If I close this distance…
If I let this moment become something real…
Can I leave?
The answer came before I could stop it.
No.
The wind moved again.
Cold.
Sharp.
Breaking it.
She stepped back.
And I let her.
"…It's getting cold," she said.
"Yeah."
We both looked away.
At the same time.
Like we had practiced it.
"…That was awkward," she said.
"A little."
But it wasn't awkward.
Not really.
It was unfinished.
She put her shoes back on.
And I watched her again.
Because I don't know how many moments like this I'll get.
"…But it's okay," she said.
I nodded.
"Yeah."
Because it is.
Because it has to be.
Because some things aren't meant to be rushed into something complete.
Some things—
are meant to stay like this.
Soft.
Unfinished.
Still becoming.
And as we stood there—
with the river moving like it didn't care about time—
I realized something.
Leaving doesn't scare me.
Losing this does.
So I stayed a little longer.
Not moving.
Not speaking.
Just—
remembering her
exactly like this.