The week leading up to the school's autumn performance was filled with controlled chaos. Costumes were being finalized, lighting rehearsals ran late into the evenings, and the auditorium buzzed with nervous energy.
Leo stood center stage under the glaring lights, script in hand, as Ami delivered her lines with clinical precision.
"You think silence protects you," she said coldly, stepping toward him. "But silence is just another kind of lie."
Leo's throat went dry. That wasn't in the original script.
He glanced at Rin backstage. She didn't stop them.
Ami had improvised again—she'd been doing that more often lately. Not changing the plot, just the way she said things. And always in ways that felt... pointed.
Leo tried to stay in character.
"I don't owe anyone my truth."
Ami narrowed her eyes. "Then stop asking for theirs."
The auditorium echoed with silence. Even the lighting tech forgot to switch to the next cue.
Rin's voice finally cut in. "Scene. Take five."
Everyone broke away. Yuki was already waiting with a towel and a bottle of water. She handed both to Leo without speaking.
"You were really good," she said after a moment.
Leo gave a faint smile. "Thanks."
Ami passed by then, silent, cool. Her eyes flicked to Leo just once before she disappeared into the side hallway.
Yuki watched her go.
"…Do you like her?"
Leo turned to Yuki, startled. "What?"
"I mean it," she said, eyes still on the hallway. "She looks at you like she's trying to read something only she can understand."
Leo opened his mouth, but no words came.
Yuki didn't wait for an answer. "It's okay. I'm not mad. I just… want to know where I stand."
Leo closed his eyes briefly. "You stand right here. With me."
Yuki gave a tiny, tired smile. "Then don't get lost."
---
Later that evening, Rin stayed behind in the auditorium, seated alone in the front row. She watched the empty stage, brows slightly furrowed.
Kai appeared beside her, holding two bottles of sports drink.
"Still overthinking?" he asked.
"I'm directing a show where four different people are in love with the same clueless boy," she muttered. "What do you think?"
Kai snorted. "At least it's not boring."
Rin took a drink. "Ami's getting too emotionally involved."
"She's good, though."
"Too good. She's using the stage to say things she won't off it."
Kai raised an eyebrow. "Like…?"
Rin stood up. "Like she's planning to rewrite the ending."
---
The next morning, the cast gathered early for one final full run-through.
Leo walked in, greeted by Hana tossing him an apple. "Breakfast," she said.
"Thanks."
She leaned in. "You look like someone who's been dreaming in monologue."
"I feel like someone who's been living one."
Yuki arrived a few minutes later. Her expression was calm, but Leo noticed the way her eyes briefly scanned the room—stopping for just a second too long when they landed on Ami.
Rehearsal began.
This time, Yuki brought fire.
Her lines were no longer restrained. She let her voice rise and fall with real emotion, interrupting Leo mid-dialogue, adding unscripted gestures—a sudden grab of his sleeve, a whispered pause that wasn't written.
Even Rin blinked from behind her clipboard.
Kai, backstage, whispered, "Well damn."
The tension on stage was thick. And when Ami entered for her confrontation scene, something shifted.
Ami's tone changed. She wasn't cold this time—she was sharp, quick, aggressive.
"Do you think you're the only one who's ever felt lost?" she snapped at Leo's character. "You built a cage and called it a home."
Yuki stepped forward, unscripted again. "At least he built it with truth."
Leo froze. The stage was now beyond script.
Rin stood.
"Stop."
The lights cut.
The cast looked at her, stunned.
"That was… reckless," Rin said slowly. "But also the best raw material I've seen in weeks."
She turned to Leo. "Rewrite Act II. This isn't theater anymore. This is personal."
Leo blinked. "…I don't know what to write."
Rin gave a rare smile. "Then write what scares you."
---
That evening, Leo sat at his desk in the dorm, fingers trembling above his notebook.
"Write what scares you."
He closed his eyes.
Then, he began:
> "When I first came here, I thought I wanted quiet. I didn't. I wanted connection."
> "But I didn't know how to ask for it."
> "Now I have too much. And I'm afraid of what I'll lose when I choose."
> "But I think… I know who makes me want to stay."
He stopped.
Then flipped the page.
> "Scene 1, Revised."
> "Lights up on a boy who doesn't know how to love—surrounded by people who won't stop loving him anyway."