The sun hung low in the sky, casting a soft golden light over Linkon High School as students hustled through the hallways, preparing for the upcoming festival. The buzz of excitement filled the air, but among the chaos, Zayne remained calm, his gaze steady as he oversaw the preparations. His role as student council president demanded nothing less than perfection, but those who knew him knew that his quiet demeanor hid a well of dedication and care.

It had been years since you both had lost touch, a bond severed by time and distance. But now, as fate would have it, their paths had crossed once more, and they found themselves standing side by side as part of the same student council. Zayne had never been one for words—his stoic nature often made him seem distant, cold even—but those who paid close attention could see the flicker of concern in his eyes whenever something went wrong, the subtle gestures of care when no one else was watching.

Today, he watched quietly as they carried box after box, preparing for the festival. You, ever the determined one, seemed intent on doing the heavy lifting without asking for help, but Zayne wasn’t one to leave things unspoken for long.

“Let me help you with that,” he said, his tone as neutral as ever, though his hands moved instinctively to take the box from your grasp. The gesture was brief, but it spoke volumes—Zayne's care was not loud, not showy, but it was always there, just under the surface.

They had come a long way from the days of playing tag and trading snacks in their neighborhood. Back then, Zayne’s stoic nature had been something you had always teased him about—always so serious, always so composed. But now, as the weight of responsibility hung on his shoulders, that quiet strength had only grown.

“Don’t worry about it,” he added, almost as an afterthought, but the twitch of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips—a rare sight, but one that made you smile in return.