Five Years Ago — Starfield Academy, Classroom 2-C

  Wind brushed against the classroom window, fluttering the edges of an old project display taped to the glass—something about constellations, long faded from sun exposure.

  Ren sat by the window, half-slouched over his desk, chin resting on one hand. The afternoon sun cast golden streaks through the panes, catching the soft drift of dust in the air. His eyes, unfocused, followed a lone bird flitting past the clouds.

  Quiet. Peaceful. Thoughtful.

  Then—

  Leah (suddenly, from behind):

  "Booo!! Is the window really that interesting?"

  Ren didn't flinch.

  Without turning, he replied with the slowest, most deadpan tone he could muster.

  Ren:

  "Yes. Much more interesting than someone who always loses at word chain games."

  Leah:

  "Hey!"

  She huffed as she slid into the chair beside him, puffing her cheeks like a squirrel denied its snack. Her bag hit the desk with a thud, and she poked his shoulder—once, twice, then held it like a challenge.

  Leah (mock-pouting):

  "You promised not to bring that up again."

  Ren (glancing at her, faint smirk forming):

  "And you promised to beat me next time. That was nine games ago."

  Leah opened her mouth, searching for a comeback, then groaned and buried her face in her arms dramatically.

  Leah (muffled):

  "Unfair! You're like... some word wizard or something. I call cheat."

  Ren (teasing):

  "You just called me smart. I win again."

  Leah:

  "Ughhh."

  She peeked up from her arms, brushing her bangs aside. The pout remained—but her eyes glittered with playful defeat. The kind that always knew he was just waiting to be challenged again.

  Leah (squinting at him):

  "One day I will beat you. And when I do, I'll make you buy me melon bread for a week. Deal?"

  Ren (leaning back with a stretch, feigning deep thought):

  "Hmm... A week is a long time. What do I get if you lose again?"

  Leah narrowed her eyes, suspicious.

  Leah:

  "What do you want?"

  Ren looked at her for a moment. Long enough to make her fidget slightly under the weight of his quiet stare.

  Then he leaned in just slightly, smirking again.

  Ren (softly):

  "A photo of your pout. Frame it. Hang it in the classroom. Title it: 'Defeated, by Ren.'"

  Leah's face flushed instantly.

  Leah (grabbing a notebook to swat him):

  "You are evil!"

  Ren laughed, catching the notebook with one hand as she tried to hit him again.

  Ren:

  "Your words, not mine."

  Leah:

  "One day, karma's gonna get you, y'know."

  Ren (raising a brow, mock-solemn):

  "If karma looks like you, I'm not worried."

  That stopped her for a beat.

  Her lips parted slightly in surprise, eyes widening before she quickly turned away, pretending to dig through her bag.

  Leah (trying to sound casual):

  "D-Don't say weird things."

  Ren watched her quietly.

  The light hit her hair just right. The golden afternoon wrapped around them like a secret, a pocket of warmth in the cold march of time. He didn't say anything else.

  Neither did she.

  But her pout faded. A smile bloomed instead—soft, unguarded, and real.

  And for a moment, the world outside the window wasn't so interesting anymore.

  Later — On the Walk Home

  The sun had begun to dip behind the rooftops, casting long shadows over the neighborhood road. The air was tinted with the scent of grilled snacks and damp earth. A gentle breeze tousled leaves and school jackets alike.

  Ren walked beside his bike, pushing it lazily with one hand on the handlebars, the other tucked into his pocket. The chain creaked softly with every bump, but he didn't mind.

  Leah walked just half a step behind, swinging her bag with every other step, eyes occasionally glancing at him. Then—

  Leah (curious):

  "I've been meaning to ask..."

  (she tilted her head, brows slightly furrowed)

  "Why don't you ever ride your bike home? It's much faster."

  Ren didn't answer right away. He kept walking, looking ahead. Then with a soft grin and just the right amount of dramatic flair—

  Ren:

  "Well... if I did that..."

  (he glanced sideways at her)

  "Then Leah would have to walk home all alone. And who knows what kind of mischief she'd get into without me."

  Leah blinked—once. Then twice.

  Her steps faltered.

  Leah (softly, flustered):

  "...W-What kind of answer is that?"

  She quickly looked away, cheeks burning a soft pink. Her grip on her bag strap tightened, and she lightly kicked at a small pebble in her path.

  Ren chuckled.

  Ren:

  "An honest one."

  Leah (quietly, trying to change the subject):

  "...So. Um. What do you want to be, y'know... after all this?"

  (she waved a vague hand around like "this" meant school, life, the universe)

  Ren paused.

  He kicked the stand of his bike gently, letting it roll forward a bit before catching it again. His face grew thoughtful—but not too serious.

  Ren:

  "...I don't really know."

  (he scratched his head)

  "Maybe a teacher. My mom's one. I guess... I could try."

  Leah tilted her head at him, a grin forming.

  Leah:

  "You? A teacher?"

  (she grinned wider, teasing)

  "I feel so sorry for the students who'll be under you."

  Ren raised a brow, mock-offended.

  Ren:

  "Oi. What's that supposed to mean?"

  Leah:

  "Just imagining you as some scary sensei, giving pop quizzes every Monday and spouting mysterious quotes like, 'If you don't get it now, you never will.'"

  Ren (playing along):

  "It builds character."

  Leah (laughing):

  "It builds trauma!"

  They both laughed—real, easy laughter that bounced off the empty road like music. No rush. No destination in mind. Just two silhouettes framed by the falling sun, walking slower than they needed to—because part of them didn't want to get home just yet.

  Ren looked at her.

  The way she smiled with her eyes.

  How she teased with warmth.

  And how she made silence feel comfortable.

  But he said nothing.

  Instead, he gently bumped her shoulder with his own.

  Ren (quiet):

  "Still. I'd probably have one good student."

  Leah turned to him, puzzled.

  Leah:

  "Who?"

  Ren (smiling, eyes ahead):

  "You."

  She blushed again—harder this time—and shoved him lightly.

  Leah:

  "You're so weird sometimes."

  Ren:

  "Takes one to walk with one."

  And they kept walking.

  Side by side.

  The sun had sunk lower now, brushing rooftops with warm gold. A few paper lanterns had already been strung across the neighborhood shops ahead, fluttering gently in the evening breeze.

  Leah walked with a little more bounce in her step now, clearly thinking of something.

  Then—casually, like she wasn't setting a trap:

  Leah (lightly):

  "Hey... there's a festival next week. You going?"

  Ren didn't even hesitate.

  Ren:

  "Oh hell nah."

  (he waved a hand dramatically)

  "Crowds? Noise? Lines? Nope. Not my thing. So—no."

  Leah frowned.

  Then she took a half step in front of him, walking backwards now so she could face him, her hands behind her back.

  Leah (pouting):

  "But there'll be fireworks."

  Ren:

  "Cool. I'll hear them from my room. Problem solved."

  Leah:

  "And food stalls."

  Ren:

  "Still not worth the crowd."

  She narrowed her eyes at him like a cat narrowing in on its prey.

  Leah:

  "You just don't want to go with me."

  Ren blinked.

  Ren:

  "...What? That's not—"

  Leah (mock-gasping):

  "You don't want to go with me."

  (she spun away, holding her chest dramatically)

  "Betrayal. Deep, irreversible betrayal."

  Ren groaned.

  Ren:

  "Don't do the theater kid act, I beg you."

  Leah (turning back, grinning):

  "Then go with me."

  Ren sighed.

  Stared up at the sky like it might save him.

  Ren:

  "...Fine."

  Leah beamed.

  Leah:

  "Really!?"

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  Ren (defeated):

  "Yeah, yeah. Just don't expect me to play festival games or anything."

  Leah:

  "No promises."

  They kept walking, silence settling briefly.

  Then—

  Leah (nonchalant):

  "So... what are we wearing?"

  Ren blinked again.

  Ren:

  "Wearing?"

  Leah:

  "Yeah, to the festival."

  Ren shrugged.

  Ren:

  "Anything will do. Nothing special."

  That earned him a look.

  Leah (offended):

  "Excuse you. That's boring. If we're going together, we have to match."

  Ren:

  "...Why?"

  Leah (grinning now):

  "Because it'll be cute."

  Ren stared.

  Ren:

  "...It's cringe."

  Leah:

  "Sky blue."

  Ren:

  "No."

  Leah:

  "Yes."

  Ren:

  "Absolutely not."

  Leah (dead serious):

  "Sky. Blue."

  Ren groaned again, dragging his feet just a little harder.

  Ren:

  "...Fine. But I'm not wearing bows or ribbons or anything, alright?"

  Leah (already skipping ahead):

  "That's a promise—and I have that in record!"

  She twirled on her heel, running ahead with her arms stretched wide like wings, her laugh echoing in the cooling air.

  Ren watched her go, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips.

  Ren (quietly):

  "...I'm so doomed."

  But his steps didn't slow.

  And neither did his smile.

  ...

  The Next Day — Starfield Academy, Morning

  Buzz.

  The classroom was already halfway alive when Ren stepped through the doorway—hair slightly wind-tossed, energy practically crackling off him like static. A few students looked up, half-listening as the homeroom teacher scribbled something on the board.

  He didn't even make it to his seat.

  ???:

  "Oi, Ren! Over here!"

  He turned to find a group of boys gathered near the back, seated in a loose circle around a half-hidden desk like they were guarding a treasure. Their expressions screamed: we're gossiping and it's juicy.

  Ren raised a brow, grinning as he dropped his bag beside them and slid into the gap like a piece of a puzzle.

  Ren:

  "What's with the huddle?"

  Jake (grinning):

  "You haven't heard? Bro, there's a rumor going around."

  Alleah:

  "Someone has a crush on you."

  Ren blinked.

  Then smirked.

  Ren:

  "Finally. My charm's been working overtime lately."

  Bea (teasing):

  "Relax, Casanova. Might be someone's prank."

  Ren leaned forward, eyes gleaming.

  Ren:

  "Okay—but who? Clues. Gimme clues."

  Jake (glancing around):

  "Well... she's from our class."

  Alleah:

  "Smart. Like, top of the board smart."

  Bea (grinning):

  "And always, always tells you off during group projects."

  Ren's heart skipped.

  His gaze turned instinctively toward the front of the room.

  And right then—she entered.

  Nikkita.

  Hair neat. Posture perfect. That quiet, composed presence that made noise hush around her. Class rep. Honor student. Role model.

  His crush.

  Ren (squinting, lips curling):

  "Wait... is it her?"

  (he nods subtly toward Nikkita)

  The group froze.

  The silence was deafening.

  Jake blinked, hard. Alleah looked away. Bea suddenly found her nails interesting.

  Jake (awkwardly):

  "Wha—? No. Course not. You got way too much confidence in yourself, man."

  Alleah (laughing nervously):

  "Seriously. Her? Come on."

  Ren (half-laughing):

  "Oh. Yeah. Right. Heh... sorry."

  But something shifted in his chest.

  The class went on.

  Ren took his seat near the window, lips pursed, heart trying to settle. He flipped open his notes, trying to focus—but his pen kept pausing halfway through a sentence. His gaze drifted outside—

  Then sideways.

  There.

  Nikkita.

  Looking his way.

  Only for a second. But long enough.

  Their eyes met.

  She blinked. Looked away immediately. Pretended to take notes.

  Ren's lips twitched into a small smile.

  After Class — Hallway

  Ren stretched as he stepped out of the classroom, yawning as his bag thudded against his back. He wasn't sure if the rumors were true—but he felt a buzz in his chest that wouldn't die down.

  Then—

  A hand grabbed his wrist.

  Pulled him fast, past the lockers, past the bulletin board, down a corridor no one used this time of day.

  Ren (startled):

  "Hey—wait, what—"

  He stopped.

  Nikkita.

  She had her hand still on his wrist, eyes serious—but not cold. Her fingers were trembling slightly.

  Nikkita (softly):

  "...I didn't want anyone to hear this."

  Ren stood still, breath caught.

  Nikkita took a breath.

  Nikkita:

  "...The rumor is true."

  Ren's eyes widened.

  Ren:

  "...What?"

  Nikkita:

  "It's me. I... had a crush on you."

  Had.

  The word stung—but Ren didn't focus on that. Not yet.

  Ren:

  "You—wait. Really?"

  Nikkita looked away, embarrassed.

  Nikkita:

  "But I'm not ready. Not for a relationship. Not now."

  Her voice softened. Quieter.

  Nikkita:

  "If you're really serious about this... about me... then maybe after college. Not while we're still figuring ourselves out."

  Ren blinked—once. Then slowly, a wide grin stretched across his face.

  Ren (with that spark):

  "What's college... when you're already the goal?"

  Nikkita turned red instantly.

  Nikkita:

  "...Idiot."

  She turned and walked away briskly, trying to hide the way her hand lingered near her chest.

  Ren stayed there.

  Still stunned. Still smiling. Still watching her fade into the hallway glow.

  Ren (calling out, louder):

  "Hey, I'm serious, Nikkita!"

  Her only answer was a small wave over her shoulder.

  But that was enough.

  ...

  Another Afternoon — The Walk Home Again

  The sun hung low behind the clouds today, painting the world in pale grays and muted orange. The wind carried a crispness, like the season was ready to shift.

  Ren walked beside Leah again, dragging his bike as usual—his other hand tucked in his jacket pocket. But this time, he wasn't teasing. He wasn't smiling.

  Leah noticed.

  Still, she kept talking.

  Leah (rolling her eyes):

  "And then—during the last period, I tried to peek at her notes, just a tiny bit... but she elbowed me."

  (she pouted)

  "That's the last time I call her my seatmate."

  Ren chuckled—barely.

  But his mind was somewhere else.

  He wasn't hearing just her story.

  He was hearing her laugh. Her breath. The way she always looked at him when she thought he wasn't looking.

  He knew.

  She knew he knew.

  And that made this harder.

  The weight of Nikkita's promise sat heavy in his chest—warm and solid, like a vow etched too deep.

  Finally, after a long pause:

  Ren (softly):

  "...Leah. Can we talk?"

  She stopped.

  The street was quiet now—just the soft rustle of trees and distant voices from open windows.

  Leah tilted her head slightly, playful tone gone.

  Leah:

  "...Okay."

  Ren exhaled. It felt like peeling something off his skin.

  Ren:

  "I... I know how you feel about me."

  (he looked down at his hands)

  "And I didn't want to pretend not to. That wouldn't be fair to you."

  Leah's smile faltered—but she didn't interrupt.

  Ren continued.

  Ren:

  "There's someone... someone I've liked for a long time. And she told me to wait."

  (he looked at her, honest)

  "So I will. I promised her."

  Leah's eyes stayed still. Just watching.

  Then, voice barely above a whisper:

  Leah:

  "So what are we really?"

  The wind passed between them.

  Ren hesitated.

  Then answered.

  Ren:

  "Can we... just stay as friends? Because you've always been there for me."

  A beat.

  Then another.

  Then—

  Leah (quietly):

  "...So basically, I'm just your rebound?"

  Ren's throat tightened. But he forced himself to stay still. To not run from the sting of truth.

  Ren (honest, quiet):

  "Yes. You could say that..."

  Silence.

  The kind that didn't echo. The kind that settled.

  Leah looked at him.

  And something in her eyes faded—not all of it, but just enough to make the world feel colder.

  But she didn't cry.

  She smiled instead.

  Leah:

  "...Okay. I understand."

  (she turned forward, started walking again)

  "Come on. Let's go. I'm getting hungry."

  Ren watched her back.

  And knew that something just broke.

  Not loudly.

  Not violently.

  But quietly.

  Like the kind of break that doesn't show until years later.

  He pushed his bike forward again.

  And walked beside her.

  But it wasn't the same anymore.

  ...

  Two Days Later — Nikkita's Birthday

  The sky was pale, stretched with thin clouds that didn't know if they wanted to rain.

  Ren stood outside the classroom with a small box in his hands—plainly wrapped, a neat little ribbon on top. Inside: a cake. Hand-prepared, carefully boxed, the icing slightly off-center, but heartfelt in every layer.

  He handed it to one of Nikkita's close friends, trying to be subtle.

  Ren (softly):

  "Hey, uh... can you give this to her?"

  (pause)

  "Tell her happy birthday for me."

  Friend (tilting head):

  "Why don't you give it to her yourself?"

  Ren smiled faintly.

  Ren:

  "She wanted to keep things quiet. I'm just... keeping my word."

  The girl nodded, surprised but accepting. She took the box gently and disappeared back into the room.

  Ren turned.

  The hallway was loud behind him—balloons, whispers, laughter—and he stepped outside into the sunless air.

  Then—

  A voice behind him.

  Nikkita (calling):

  "Ren!"

  He stopped, blinking.

  She ran up to him—slightly out of breath, hair fluttering, the box now in her hands. And for the first time in days, she wasn't the composed student everyone admired.

  She was just her.

  Nikkita (softly):

  "Thank you."

  And then she smiled.

  It wasn't perfect. It wasn't long. But it was real.

  And in that second—Ren felt like the whole world had aligned just for that moment. Like everything he gave, everything he waited for, was worth it.

  He wanted to say something—anything.

  But she was already walking away, back to the classroom, cake pressed gently to her chest.

  That was the last time he saw that smile.

  The Next Day — Class

  The room buzzed with chatter.

  Ren sat in his seat, eyes on the window—but this time, his heart was louder than the birds outside.

  The teasing had started early.

  Voices whispered behind hands.

  "She got a cake, right? From a guy."

  "Isn't it that slacker Ren?"

  "No way she'd like him—right?"

  "She didn't even deny it."

  Nikkita sat rigid at her desk, eyes forward, lips thin.

  She didn't look at Ren once.

  Not even during dismissal.

  Not even on the next day.

  Then the day after that...

  It rained that morning—not heavily, but enough to mist the windows and make the world outside look like it was drawn in charcoal.

  Ren entered the classroom later than usual, hoodie damp, hair slightly tousled from the drizzle. His steps weren't lazy this time. They were careful.

  He scanned the room—Nikkita was already there, surrounded by friends.

  But she wasn't laughing.

  She wasn't even talking.

  She sat perfectly still, her hands folded on her desk, staring blankly at the board.

  Ren walked toward his seat—two rows behind her—and paused halfway.

  He hesitated.

  Waited.

  Hoped maybe she'd turn. Maybe she'd look.

  She didn't.

  Not even a flick of her eyes.

  He sat down, slower than usual. Headphones around his neck, but no music. He stared at the back of her head like someone trying to remember how sunlight used to feel.

  Behind him, a voice whispered.

  Voice (classmate):

  "Told you. She's ignoring him."

  Another (giggling):

  "Well duh. Wouldn't you? A girl like her and a guy like him?"

  He clenched his jaw.

  But he didn't snap back.

  Lunch Break...

  He waited by the stairwell near the library—where they used to bump into each other between classes.

  She passed by.

  Alone.

  Ren (clearing his throat):

  "Nikkita—can we talk? Just for a minute?"

  She kept walking.

  Not a glance. Not even a shift in pace.

  Ren blinked.

  It felt surreal. Like someone had pressed mute on reality.

  He turned to follow, just a little faster this time, catching up.

  And when she stopped at her locker, he reached out.

  Gently—carefully—his hand found her arm.

  Ren (softly):

  "Please. Just talk to me. Let me explain—"

  Then—

  She pulled away.

  Harder than he expected.

  Not violent. But not subtle either.

  The kind of shove that doesn't say "don't touch me."

  The kind that says

  "you're not allowed anymore."

  She didn't look back.

  She walked off, hands trembling at her sides—but she never let him see her face.

  After School...

  He didn't ride his bike home that day.

  He walked it. Like always.

  But this time it wasn't to stay beside someone.

  It was just... heavy.

  The world felt heavier.

  He wandered the long route—past the bridge, the hill, the neighborhood store Leah always complained had overpriced soda.

  He wanted to message her.

  But didn't.

  He wanted to call Nikkita.

  But couldn't.

  He wanted to undo it all.

  But didn't know where to begin.

  He sat at the empty park bench as the sky began to dim, clouds softening into shadows.

  He stared at the sky, unsure if he was waiting for the stars or just... an answer.

  Meanwhile — Somewhere Else

  A room was quiet.

  Too quiet.

  Leah stared at her phone—at the name she hadn't messaged in days.

  She typed something.

  Deleted it.

  Typed again.

  Deleted it again.

  She leaned her head against the wall, eyes red—but no tears left.

  Outside, her family was laughing at a show playing too loudly.

  Inside?

  She was folding in on herself.

  Softly.

  Silently.

  Unseen.

  Nightfall — Ren's Room

  The lights were off. The cake box he once held was now empty on his desk, the ribbon still neatly folded beside it.

  He sat on his bed, hugging his pillow like it could absorb the ache in his chest.

  His phone screen lit up again and again.

  No messages.

  No calls.

  Just the battery dying.

  Just like him.

  Later that week...

  It was Thursday.

  The hallway outside the classroom buzzed with life, lockers slamming, shoes squeaking, jokes being tossed from mouth to mouth like candy.

  But Ren walked through it like a ghost.

  He hadn't spoken to Nikkita since the shove.

  He hadn't cracked a joke in two days. No teasing. No sarcastic remarks. Not even to the juniors he normally messed with in the hallway.

  He didn't sit with Jake and the others at lunch.

  He sat under the stairs instead, earbuds in but no music playing.

  He just sat. Eyes blank. Legs stretched. Thinking about how easily things fell apart.

  He wanted to ask what he did wrong.

  He wanted to yell at her. At himself. At the universe.

  But mostly...

  He wanted to talk to Leah.

  Just like always.

  But he hadn't.

  He'd been avoiding her. He thought it was kinder. Cleaner.

  He'd made her cry once.

  He didn't want to do it again.

  "Ren!"

  Jake's voice pulled him out of the fog.

  Ren blinked.

  Jake stood there, brows furrowed in something that didn't look like his usual chaos. His hoodie was inside out. His laces were untied. His whole vibe was wrong.

  Jake (softly):

  "Did you... Did you hear about Leah?"

  Ren (confused):

  "No. What about her?"

  Jake hesitated. His mouth opened, then closed again. For a guy who never shut up, he was suddenly struggling to speak.

  Jake:

  "She's... she's gone."

  Ren stared.

  Ren:

  "Gone where?"

  Jake (quiet, eyes falling):

  "...Her mom found her. A few days ago. She took her life, man."

  The world stilled.

  Ren didn't breathe.

  He felt the walls pressing in, the air folding around him like it had teeth.

  Ren (barely audible):

  "...That's not... No, you're joking."

  Jake shook his head.

  Jake:

  "The funeral was yesterday."

  Silence.

  Ren's backpack slid off his shoulder and hit the floor with a dull thump. He didn't notice.

  His mind was a blur of images.

  The way Leah pouted every time he won a teasing match.

  The way she ran ahead on the sidewalk with that half-smile.

  The way she said "That's a promise, and I have that in record."

  All of it.

  Gone.

  And he didn't even know she was hurting.

  He hadn't even said goodbye.

  Days later — Cemetery Grounds

  The sky was gray. A colder kind of gray.

  One that didn't threaten rain.

  One that just... lingered.

  Ren stood alone in front of her grave, the marker simple and clean.

  No music.

  No visitors.

  Just wind.

  And silence.

  The grass around the plot was still new. The flowers were already starting to wilt.

  He knelt, trembling slightly, a folded letter in his pocket that he couldn't bring himself to read aloud.

  His voice came out like a breath:

  Ren:

  "...You didn't even tell me, Leah."

  (pause)

  "I would've... I would've listened. I swear."

  He gripped the edge of the stone gently, not like something to lean on—but like something he might break if he touched too hard.

  Ren (voice shaking):

  "You didn't even give me a chance to say sorry."

  He blinked.

  His throat tightened.

  His hand reached up and pulled out the letter—but halfway through, he froze.

  And lowered it again.

  Ren (whispering):

  "I can't even say goodbye right."

  He stayed like that for what felt like hours.

  Not crying.

  Not breaking.

  Just... hollowing.

  Later That Night — Ren's Room

  He lay on his bed staring at the ceiling.

  His phone lit up with a message from Jake:

  "You okay?"

  Ren stared at it.

  Didn't reply.

  Because no.

  He wasn't.

  He would never be okay again.

  Outside — The World Kept Moving

  Birds flew.

  Trains passed.

  Students laughed.

  But something in Ren had turned cold.

  Not angry.

  Not loud.

  Just quiet.

  Just gone.