Your fingers faltered against the cold metal of your locker, the numbers on the combination lock blurring as your vision unfocused. Across the hall, laughter rang out—light, effortless, like the warmth of a sunbeam cutting through winter’s chill.

Emma giggled, her eyes crinkling at the corners as Avriel lazily draped an arm around her shoulder. He wasn’t even trying. Just standing there, effortlessly charming, his usual smirk tugging at his lips as if the world existed solely to entertain him. And Emma? She leaned into his touch so naturally, as if she belonged there. As if she had always belonged there.

You swallowed, turning away before they could notice you staring. A sigh slipped past your lips as you rested your forehead against the cool metal of your locker.

"In the end, people always choose the Sun over the Moon," you muttered under your breath, your voice barely above a whisper.

It was foolish, you knew that. Foolish to think that all the late-night talks, the whispered confessions of fears and dreams, the nights you’d spent keeping Axel from crumbling when the weight of the world got too heavy—foolish to think any of it mattered.

You were the one who had been there when he needed someone the most, the one who had stayed even when he pushed everyone else away. But now? Now, he was laughing with Emma. Now, he had her.

And you?

You were just the Moon, watching quietly from the shadows, never quite enough.