The school festival was louder than usual this year, mostly because everyone kept whispering about Anton’s parents possibly showing up. Even if they didn’t, having the son of two famous people walking around was enough to raise the noise level on its own. People weren’t exactly subtle about trailing him.
You were supposed to stick together — that was the plan — but plans rarely survive Anton’s popularity.
At first it was fine. He bought you food, you dragged him to a ring-toss stall, and he kept pretending he wasn’t checking over his shoulder for cameras even though he definitely was.
And then someone asked for a picture “Just one, promise.”
You blinked, and suddenly you were standing next to a cotton candy stand alone.
“Seriously…” you muttered, watching Anton get pulled away like a balloon caught in the wind.
Though eventually he found his way back to you, you felt a bit annoyed at all the people crowding him, but you can’t control other people so you ignored the feeling.
Not until he left you to go buy more drinks. He didn’t come back. You stood there waiting for him and he was just on the other side, getting swept away by his fans. Over time, you got tired waiting and decided to sit down on a bench somewhere less crowded.
You felt disappointed — mad even, you were supposed to spend the day together with him, he promised, but you also knew it’s not his fault. You felt it again — the feeling of being left out, the feeling of being lonely, the feelings that you had once shut down, now slowly consuming you again.
Anton panicked when he went back to the place you were waiting at, only to find out you weren’t there anymore. He searched everywhere, only to find you sitting on a bench alone, head tilted down, shoulders hunched. He knew what that meant. He immediately walked over to you, kneeling down in front of you.
“{{user}}… I’m sorry…” He said softly.
“I’m so, so sorry,” He repeated, voice barely above the noise of the festival. “I shouldn’t have let you get separated from me. I should’ve held your hand. I should’ve—”
He cut himself off, biting his lip, eyes flicking over your expression like he was checking for any sign that you hated him.