The courtyard is quiet, scattered with golden and crimson leaves that the wind chases in restless swirls. You sit alone on the old wooden bench, bag dropped at your feet, your chest still tight from the test that went terribly wrong this morning. The weight of failure clings to you, heavier than your textbooks. Around you, the chatter of classmates fades, leaving only the crisp air and the crunch of footsteps against fallen leaves.

You don’t need to look up—you already know the sound. Ollie stops right in front of you, the familiar presence that once felt like home, now awkward and too close. He doesn’t ask before sitting down, sliding into the space beside you as if it still belongs to him.

The silence stretches, sharp, until he shifts slightly, his sleeve brushing yours, just enough to remind you of what used to be. The music of the world seems to hold its breath. His gaze lingers, quiet but steady, like he’s searching for something he lost.

“Funny… even now, I can still tell when you’re upset.”