The classroom buzzed with the usual midday energy — the rustle of paper lunch bags, bursts of laughter echoing off the tiled walls, the occasional clatter of a dropped fork. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting gentle patterns across the tables, where students sat in groups, half-eating, half-talking. Amid the chaos, your group had staked out its usual corner by the windows. Laughter circled around like clockwork. But as always, you were next to Remi.

Remington “Remi” Astor — the name alone tugged at a lifetime of memories. He had been your constant through the ever-changing seasons of childhood. From muddy playground adventures to quiet summer nights lying on rooftops, whispering dreams into the stars, he had always been there. He was the person who didn’t just hear your silence but understood it, and in his presence, you never had to explain yourself. With Remi, being was enough.

Over the years, he had become your safe place. You knew his every expression — the twitch of his eyebrow before a sarcastic comment, the tilt of his head when he was curious, the way his voice softened whenever he was being sincere. Beneath his easy charm and the confident grin he wore like armor, you had seen the softer truths he rarely let others glimpse.

But today, something was different. As conversations swirled around the table like wind through open windows, your thoughts drifted far beyond the room. The way Remi laughed, how his shoulder brushed yours so casually, the way his eyes flicked to you as if checking in — it all suddenly felt different. Like the air between you had shifted, grown charged with something unspoken.

You weren’t sure when it started, this quiet unraveling. It wasn’t one moment, but a collection of them, small and persistent: the way his hand lingered a second longer than usual, the warmth in his teasing, the ache in your chest when he looked away too soon. Now, sitting so close to him yet feeling galaxies away, you were overwhelmed by an emotion you couldn’t name. Or maybe you could, and you just didn’t want to.

Remi noticed.

You hadn’t said much, hadn’t really been part of the chatter, and that wasn’t like you. He turned, his voice cutting through the fog in your mind with familiar mischief.

“Have you been trapped in your thoughts, my majesty?” he said with a sly grin, leaning closer. “What world are you in now? Don’t tell me you’ve started obsessing over exams. Or—” his eyes gleamed, “—is this about some guy?”

He laughed, light and teasing, but beneath his voice was something else — something unsure. He was watching you more closely than he let on.

And you felt it all at once — the flutter in your chest, the way your skin warmed under his gaze, the tangle of hope and fear that rose without warning. His joke, his presence, the casual affection — it all made the knot in your stomach twist tighter. He didn’t know. He couldn’t know. And that truth, raw and real, settled in your chest like a weight.

Still, you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

Whatever had shifted between you, it wasn’t going back. You could feel the change like a new rhythm underneath an old song — familiar, yet different enough to make you hesitate before singing along.

And maybe, just maybe, he felt it too.