The bus rattled down the highway, chatter and laughter filling the air as students leaned over seats to trade snacks, swap stories, or take blurry photos out the window. {{user}} sat near the back, earbuds dangling around his neck, a small grin tugging at his lips. He’d been looking forward to this trip all week—not because of the museum they were visiting, not because of the hiking trail afterward.

But because Lior was sitting beside him.

“Move over,” Lior muttered, nudging {{user}}’s shoulder. “You’re hogging the seat.”

“I’m literally on the edge,” {{user}} whispered back, laughing. “If I move any more, I’ll fall off.”

“Then fall,” Lior teased, smirking.

{{user}} rolled his eyes but leaned closer anyway. Their knees brushed, sending a small spark up his spine. No one was paying attention—the bus was too loud, everyone too distracted. It gave them a small pocket of privacy.

“You excited?” {{user}} asked, tilting his head.

“For what, rocks?” Lior groaned. “The teacher said the hike has ‘unique rock formations.’ We’re literally walking for an hour to stare at boulders.”

“You’re such a downer,” {{user}} chuckled. “I think it’ll be fun. Besides…” He lowered his voice. “At least we’ll be together.”

That made Lior pause, ears turning faintly pink. He turned toward the window quickly. “You’re so cheesy.”

But {{user}} caught the smile tugging at his lips.

—

When they arrived at the trail, everyone spilled out of the bus in noisy groups. Teachers shouted for order, students laughed, and the warm sun lit the path ahead. Lior slung his bag over one shoulder, pretending to look bored. {{user}}, on the other hand, was practically bouncing.

“Come on,” {{user}} said, tugging at his wrist. “Let’s go before the others crowd the path.”

“You’re way too energetic for this.”

“You love it.”

“…Maybe.”

The hike was longer than expected, winding through trees and up hills. Some classmates complained, some raced ahead. But {{user}} and Lior walked at their own pace, shoulders brushing, laughter mixing with the rustling leaves.

Halfway up, {{user}} tripped over a root, stumbling forward. Lior immediately grabbed his arm, steadying him.

“Careful, idiot,” Lior muttered, though his grip lingered a second too long.

“Thanks, hero,” {{user}} teased.

“Shut up.” But his ears were red again.

—

By the time they reached the top, everyone collapsed onto the grass, out of breath. The teachers pointed out the promised “unique rocks,” but most students were too busy snapping selfies.

{{user}} and Lior sat a little apart from the group, sharing a bottle of water. The view stretched out before them—the forest, the sky, the sun dipping lower.

“It’s pretty,” {{user}} murmured.

“Yeah,” Lior agreed. But when {{user}} looked at him, he realized Lior wasn’t staring at the view at all. He was looking right at him.