The announcement came when no one was really listening.
The bell had just rung for the last two periods, and most students were already halfway out of their seats when the teacher cleared her throat.
"Before you all leave," she said, raising her voice, "today's last two periods will be outdoor games. All classes are expected to attend."
A collective groan filled the room.
"Oh come on.""It's too hot.""Why always games?"
The girl rested her chin on her hand, staring at the desk.
Outdoor games.
She leaned slightly toward her friend. "I don't want to go."
Her friend laughed. "You never want to go."
"I'll just stay back," she said quietly. "I'll say I'm not feeling well."
Her friend gave her a look. "You're fine."
"I know. I just… don't want to go outside."
Her friend smirked but didn't push. "Alright. I'll come check on you later."
The girl nodded, relieved.
One floor above, in a different classroom, the boy was having the exact opposite reaction.
"You're seriously skipping?" his friend asked, already standing.
The boy slung his bag over one shoulder. "Yeah."
"You're in your final year. You know teachers care more about seniors, right?"
"I'll deal with it."
His friend narrowed his eyes. "You don't skip games."
"I do when I don't feel like being there."
"That's not an answer."
The boy hesitated, then shrugged. "I just need some quiet."
His friend snorted. "Sure you do."
The boy didn't respond. He was already thinking about the corridor—the way it would be empty, the way the noise would disappear.
And, without meaning to—
She might be there.
He shook his head.
Don't overthink it.
When the students left for the field, the school changed.
The usual noise drained away. Doors stopped slamming. Footsteps faded. Even the air felt calmer.
The girl packed her bag slowly, making sure the classroom was empty before standing. She adjusted her glasses and stepped into the hallway.
It was quiet.
Too quiet.
She liked it.
She started walking toward the stairs, hugging her notebook to her chest.
Just get some water, she told herself. Then go back.
She didn't expect to see him.
So when she turned the corner and nearly collided with a tall figure, she froze.
"Oh—!"
"Sorry," he said at the same time.
They both stopped.
It took her half a second to recognize him.
Her heart skipped.
"Oh," she said softly. "Hi."
"Hey," he replied.
They stood there, awkwardly facing each other in the empty corridor.
She noticed he wasn't wearing his blazer. His tie was loose, hanging around his neck. His bag was slung over one shoulder like he'd been in a hurry—or like he hadn't cared enough to fix it.
She looked away quickly.
Why is he here? she wondered. He's a senior. Shouldn't he be with his class?
The boy noticed her hesitation.
"You… didn't go out?" he asked.
She shook her head. "I'm not really into outdoor games."
A small smile appeared on his face. "Same."
That surprised her.
"I thought seniors had to attend," she said.
"We do," he admitted. "But I stayed back."
"Oh."
Another pause.
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "I should probably—"
"Yeah," he said automatically. Then, realizing he didn't want her to leave, he added quickly, "I mean—there's no rush."
She glanced at him again.
"You okay?" she asked.
He laughed softly. "I think so."
They both smiled—small, nervous smiles.
"So," she said, trying to sound casual, "aren't your friends looking for you?"
"They're probably busy arguing about teams," he replied. "They won't notice I'm gone."
She nodded.
The silence returned, but this time it felt different.
Not empty.
Just… full.
The boy took a slow breath.
This is your chance.
He had thought about this moment so many times—imagined it in different ways. None of them involved his heart beating this fast.
"I wanted to talk to you," he said suddenly.
Her fingers tightened around her notebook.
"Oh," she said. "About… what?"
He hesitated.
Say it.
Or don't.
His mind raced.
You're her senior. Don't make it weird.If she doesn't feel the same, you'll embarrass yourself.But if you don't say anything, you'll regret it.
"I just—" he started, then stopped.
She waited.
He swallowed. "I feel like we never really get to talk."
She nodded slowly. "Yeah. We don't."
"You're always with your friends," he continued. "And I'm usually rushing to my class."
She smiled faintly. "Senior problems."
He laughed. "Something like that."
For a moment, it felt easy.
Too easy.
He took a step closer without realizing it.
She noticed immediately.
Her heart started racing.
He was taller up close. She had to tilt her head slightly to meet his eyes.
"Are you nervous?" she asked quietly.
He chuckled. "Is it that obvious?"
"A little."
She was nervous too, but she didn't say it.
He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not very good at… this."
"At what?"
"At saying things when they matter."
She looked at him, really looked at him.
He seemed unsure. Vulnerable. Nothing like the confident senior everyone else saw.
"I think you're doing fine," she said softly.
Something in her tone made his chest tighten.
He stepped closer.
Just one step.
Close enough that he could hear her breathing.
Close enough that she could feel his presence.
"I just don't want to mess this up," he said.
"M-mess what up?" she asked.
Before he could answer—
Her foot slipped slightly on the smooth floor.
She gasped.
"Wait—"
He reached out—
—