The campus was unusually silent, cloaked in the hush of late evening. Even the wind seemed to tread lightly as Maya and Damien moved past the dim lampposts, toward the old building tucked at the far end of the school grounds. Most students never came this way -- not unless they had to.
Maya hugged her arms around her chest as they walked. "I still don't understand why they keep the props in a place that looks like it's been abandoned since the '80s."
Damien chuckled. "Because the school board doesn't care about drama kids."
She gave a soft laugh, but her nerves simmered just beneath. The quiet between them was not awkward, but delicate, like a slow-drifting thread that neither wanted to tug too hard. Ever since they got paired to run the art booth, something had shifted. Something soft and unfamiliar was starting to bloom.
They reached the old storage room -- a rusting metal door set into the side of the building. Damien jiggled the handle and pushed it open with effort. It creaked, reluctant, like it hadn't been opened in months.
Maya stepped inside first. A musty smell hit her -- dust, mothballs, forgotten wood. A single bulb dangled from the ceiling, its flickering light barely illuminating the mess of boxes and scattered props.
"Ugh," she muttered. "I can't believe I left my paints in this graveyard."
Damien stepped in behind her, brushing off a cobweb from the doorframe. "I'll give you a few minutes to find them. I need to call my mom anyway -- she's been blowing up my phone since earlier. Terrible signal here though."
"Go," she said with a nod, already rummaging through stacked trunks. "I won't vanish."
"I'll be just outside." He tapped the door lightly before stepping away.
Maya crouched beside an old crate, her fingers brushing through tangled fabric, glittering ribbon, and broken masks. Eventually, she pulled out a zipped canvas bag, spotted with paint stains and duct tape -- her kit.
"Gotcha," she said under her breath, standing upright with a small smile of relief.
But the smile died on her lips when she heard the door open behind her.
"Damien, that was fast..." she began, turning -- but it wasn't Damien.
It was Logan.
He stood just inside the doorway, his expression unreadable. His presence was a cold wind through her spine. The moment their eyes met, something locked tight in her chest.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded, the bag slipping a little from her grasp.
He looked just as confused. "I didn't know anyone was in here. I just..."
Before he could finish, the heavy door slammed shut, and a loud click echoed through the room.
Maya darted toward it. "Wait...what the hell..? Open it!"
She yanked at the handle. It didn't budge.
"No, no, no..." She tried again. Locked.
Logan stepped forward. "It wasn't me. I didn't mean..."
"You locked us in!" she shouted, turning on him, her voice sharp and edged with panic. "Of course you did. Of all the freaking people...you!"
"I didn't know you were here!" he snapped, voice rising for the first time. "I come here sometimes when I need to be alone. Sue me."
Maya cursed under her breath and pulled out her phone. No signal. She moved to the side of the room, lifted her phone toward the ceiling -- still nothing. Her heart pounded faster.
"Damien!" she yelled, banging on the door. "Hello? Can you hear me?!"
Silence.
She tried texting, calling -- nothing went through. The signal bar remained stubbornly blank. Logan leaned back against a dusty shelf, running a hand down his face. "There's no service in this part of the building. It's always dead here."
Maya turned on him again, eyes flashing. "You've gotta be kidding me. This has to be a joke. Of all the people on this stupid planet...why you?"
He didn't answer at first.
Then softly, he said, "I didn't plan this."
She looked at him -- really looked -- and hated the way his eyes softened. Hated the way a small, broken piece of her wanted to believe he was telling the truth.
"You don't get to look at me like that," she snapped.
"I never stopped looking at you," he replied.
The words dropped between them like a knife.
Before she could react, the bulb overhead flickered once, then twice, then sputtered out completely -- plunging them into pitch darkness.
Maya gasped. The silence roared. She took a step backward and hit a stack of boxes with a loud thud.
"Hey, it's okay," Logan said quickly, his voice closer now. "Don't freak out..."
"I'm not," she said too fast, too sharp.
"You're scared of the dark." His voice was quieter now. Gentle. "You always were."
"I'm not scared," she said again, wrapping her arms tightly around herself, trying to breathe. The dark pressed in from every side. She hated it. She hated the way memories crowded her -- childhood nights where shadows looked like monsters, where no one came when she cried.
She heard him move, heard his footsteps crunching against the dusty floor.
"Don't come near me," she warned.
"I'm not gonna touch you."
He sat down nearby -- too nearby. The air between them tightened. She could feel his presence. The warmth of his body despite the cold. The familiarity she was trying so hard to erase.
Seconds passed. Maybe minutes.
Then she whispered, "Don't go far."
He didn't speak. But she heard him shift. Felt him lean back slowly against the wall near hers.
"I won't," he said, voice lower now. "I'm here."
She swallowed hard, blinking uselessly into the dark. Her voice was small when she asked, "Why did you do it?"
He was quiet. Then: "Because I'm an idiot."
Maya let out a trembling breath.
"Because I was scared of how much I felt for you," he went on, voice raw. "I pushed you away because I thought I'd ruin you. And then I did anyway."
She closed her eyes. "You humiliated me."
"I know."
"I trusted you."
"I know."
She didn't move. Didn't speak. The silence between them wasn't peaceful -- it was aching, unbearable.
Finally, Logan whispered, "I miss you."
She didn't answer. Couldn't. Her heart felt like it was being held too tightly in someone else's hands.
After a long pause, she reached out in the dark. Just slightly. Her fingers didn't touch him, but she knew he was there. She didn't ask him to move away again.
And he didn't leave.
The silence stretched. The room stayed dark. But for the first time in what felt like forever, neither of them said goodbye.