The first comment came from someone neither of them knew well enough to prepare for. It was said lightly. That was what made it harder to ignore.
They were waiting outside the classroom when a boy from another section slowed near them, eyes flicking between Elian and Juni.
"So," he said, casual and curious, "you two always together now?"
Juni stiffened.
Elian answered before he could retreat.
"We're friends."
The boy shrugged. "Just saying. People notice." He walked off like the conversation meant nothing.
Juni's jaw tightened. Elian watched his shoulders draw in, the familiar instinct to disappear surfacing again.
Inside the classroom, Juni took his seat without a word. He kept his head down, pen moving faster than necessary. Elian waited through the lesson, watching him from the corner of his eye. When the bell rang, Juni stood quickly.
"I'll see you later," he said, already turning away.
It wasn't rejection. It was self-preservation. Elian understood that now.
At lunch, Juni didn't sit beside Elian. He chose a table farther away, closer to a group he sometimes blended into. Elian hesitated—then picked up his tray and followed.
Not dramatically. Not defensively.
He sat down across from Juni as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Juni looked up, surprised. Elian met his gaze calmly. Didn't ask permission. Didn't explain. Juni swallowed—and stayed.
It happened near the lockers later that day. Someone laughed nearby—too loud, too pointed.
"Guess the transfer's got himself a shadow."
Juni froze. Elian didn't.
He turned, meeting the speaker's eyes with quiet steadiness.
"He's not a shadow," Elian said evenly.
"He's my friend."
The hallway went still. The comment hadn't been aggressive. Elian's response wasn't either. That was what made it effective. The other student scoffed lightly, then walked away.
Juni stared at Elian.
"…You didn't have to do that," he said.
Elian shrugged. "I wanted to."
Juni's throat tightened. "…You don't know what that costs."
Elian met his gaze.
"I do."
Juni searched his face—looking for doubt, for regret.
Found none.
On the bus ride home, Juni sat quietly, fingers twisted together."…People will keep talking," he said softly.
Elian nodded. "I know."
"…And you're okay with that?"
Elian didn't answer immediately. He watched the city blur past, then turned back.
"I'm okay with choosing you," he said. "Whatever comes with that."
Juni's breath hitched. He looked away, blinking rapidly.
"…Thank you," he whispered.
The bus hummed beneath them. Juni leaned just slightly toward Elian—not touching, but close enough to feel anchored. For the first time, the world's attention didn't send him running.
Because this time—
He wasn't standing alone.