The scent of sizzling meat and freshly baked bread wafted through the air as Celeste and Lyka walked side by side, trays in hand, inching their way forward in the cafeteria line.
"I'm starving," Lyka groaned, scanning the menu. "And I swear, if they give me another tiny scoop of rice, I'm filing a complaint."
Celeste chuckled.
"You say that every week."
"Because it happens every week," Lyka shot back, grabbing a tray of chicken fillet. "Can't wait to graduate and never argue about portion sizes again."
Once they had their food, the two girls scanned the crowded cafeteria. A vacant table near the corner, by the glass wall overlooking the courtyard, caught their attention.
"There," Celeste pointed, and they made their way through the maze of students.
They dropped their trays onto the table and plopped into their seats.
"Okay," Lyka said, picking up her spoon, "please, let's not talk about that dry econ discussion earlier. My brain almost left my body."
Celeste grinned. "You mean the one where the professor said 'synergy' ten times in a single sentence?"
"That one," Lyka said with a dramatic sigh. "I want to discuss something fun. Like… I don't know, that guy from engineering who keeps flirting with the vending machine."
Celeste snorted.
"You mean Allan?"
"YES. He talks to it like it's his girlfriend."
They both burst into laughter.
Then, as they settled into a more relaxed rhythm of eating, Lyka glanced at her phone to check the time.
12:15 PM.
She blinked, then subtly looked around the cafeteria.
"Huh," she muttered.
Celeste glanced up.
"What is it?"
"Liam," Lyka replied, still scanning the room. "He usually shows up around ten minutes after us, right? But he's not here."
Celeste looked around too. Their table was always the same spot, their routine the same—Liam never missed lunch with them.
"Huh… that's true," she said, pulling her phone out of her pocket.
Right on cue, her screen lit up with a new message.
Not from Ash.
Not from Rowan.
Liam:
Hey, can I talk to you later? Like… alone? After class. Around 4:10? I'll be at the football court. Just want to say something.
Celeste stared at it for a moment.
Lyka, mid-sip from her drink, caught the look on her face and leaned forward a little.
Her eyes darted toward the screen.
"Ohhh…" Lyka hummed knowingly.
Celeste raised a brow. "Don't start."
"I'm not saying anything," Lyka said, though the smirk on her lips said otherwise.
Celeste sighed lightly, placing her phone down. "I'll tell him. About me and Ash."
.
.
.
The sun was beginning its lazy descent, casting warm amber light over the university's football court. Most students had already cleared out, the echo of laughter and footsteps now distant.
Celeste stood at the edge of the court, her bag slung over one shoulder, squinting slightly against the light.
She looked around.
"Liam?"
"I'm here," came a voice behind her.
She turned—and there he was.
Liam strolled over, hands in his pockets, wearing his usual relaxed expression. He looked good as always: tall, broad-shouldered, with skin that glowed against the golden sun, hair tousled in that effortlessly cool way. A few girls passing by actually slowed to glance at him.
But his eyes weren't teasing today. No smug grin. Just something quiet and determined.
"You called me out here like some secret meeting," Celeste said, smirking. "What's this? Are you about to reveal you're a vampire or something?"
Liam chuckled softly.
"Nah. If I were a vampire, I'd have invited you somewhere shadier."
"That's true," she grinned.
Then… silence.
Just the wind brushing past, rustling her hair and the nearby trees.
He scratched the back of his neck.
"Okay. So. I'm not gonna beat around the bush. I like you, Celeste."
She blinked.
"I mean… really like you," he continued. "Not just the 'we sit together during lunch and I like your jokes' kind of like. I've been into you for a while. You're sharp, hilarious, terrifying when you roast people, and somehow still stupidly pretty when you're eating spaghetti like a barbarian."
Celeste blinked again. Then narrowed her eyes playfully.
"Hey."
"I said it with love," Liam chuckled.
Then his voice softened.
"I know I joke around a lot. I don't always say serious things. But this is. I didn't want to keep wondering 'what if.' So… yeah. I'm putting it out there."
Celeste's smile faded a little—not into anything cold, but into something thoughtful. Her lips parted slightly, like she wasn't sure how to begin.
"Liam," she said finally, "thank you. That was brave."
His stomach dropped. The way she said his name—it wasn't how someone says it when they're about to say me too.
She continued, "You're one of the kindest guys I've ever met. And I've always appreciated how you never made things weird, or heavy. You're just… good. Genuinely good. And that's rare."
He waited. Quiet. Still hoping.
"But I'm already seeing someone," she said, steady and proud. "And I love him."
And it hit.
A clean, quiet slice through the chest. No drama. No fireworks. Just a sharp ache that sat between his ribs.
"…Gotcha."
Liam breathed. He forced a smile, but it barely held.
"Right. Of course you are."
"I wanted to tell you sooner," she added sincerely. "I didn't want to hide it or lead anyone on."
"Is it someone I know?"
She paused. "I think so."
He nodded.
"Right..."
There was a moment of silence between them.
"You're still my friend, Liam," she said. "That hasn't changed. But if you need some space, I'll understand."
He smiled faintly.
"No, I'm fine. I'm glad I said it. Better than bottling it up forever, right?"
She held out her hand.
"Friends?"
He hooked his pinky with hers instead.
"Always."
She gave him one last warm smile and turned to leave.
"See you tomorrow then."
He smiled.
"See you."
He stood there long after she disappeared, staring at the spot she'd been standing.
"…Of course she's taken," he muttered. "Of course..."
He flopped down on a bench nearby, dragging his hands over his face.
"Okay, cool. Awesome. Rejected with grace. That's good. I'm mature. I'm emotionally stable," he muttered to himself, staring up at the afternoon sky. "This is totally fine."
The sky didn't answer. Rude.
He flopped sideways onto the bench, half-draped like a tired prince.
"I knew it," he said out loud. "I knew she was into someone. I mean, she glows like a Studio Ghibli protagonist in love. And me? I'm the background tree."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, stared at the lock screen, then flipped it face down with an annoyed grunt.
"Imagine thinking you're the main character just because you have a decent smile and a soft spot for stray cats," he mumbled. "Should've known I was just comic relief."
There was a long pause.
Then—
"Wow," a voice drawled from behind him. "That was the most dramatic inner monologue I've ever heard—and I've watched twenty-two K-dramas."
Liam jerked up so fast he nearly fell off the bench.
"LYKA?!"
She stood there with her arms crossed, an amused smirk on her face, her hoodie sleeves pushed up like she was ready to fight emotional damage itself.
"I was not expecting company," Liam said, clutching his chest. "Were you seriously standing there the whole time?"
"Not the whole time. I let you finish your little Shakespearean tragedy first," she said, plopping down next to him and stealing his phone without asking. "You talk to yourself when you're sad. That's cute."
"I do not."
"You do," she confirmed, scrolling through his widgets. "Also, your Spotify is stuck on a playlist called 'Rainy Sad Boy Hours.' That's a cry for help."
Liam groaned and covered his face. "Why are you like this?"
"Because someone has to be." She leaned back against the bench, kicking her feet out lazily. "So. You finally did it, huh? Confessed to Celeste?"
"…Yeah."
"And she?"
Liam made a slicing motion across his throat.
"Fatality."
Lyka winced.
"Oof. RIP to your ego."
"It's not even about the rejection," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's just… I guess I built it up too much in my head. Thought I'd be braver. Cooler. Less of a—" he motioned vaguely at himself— "sad tortilla."
Lyka laughed. "First of all, no one's cool when they confess. Not even anime protagonists. Second, you're not a tortilla. You're like… a mochi ball. Soft but somehow durable."
"…Thanks?"
"Welcome."
There was a comfortable silence for a while.
Then Lyka added, "So… you gonna be sad for the next forty-eight hours, or should I start emotionally rehabilitating you now?"
Liam raised an eyebrow.
"Rehabilitating me?"
"Yeah," she said, standing up and dusting off her shorts "Yeah. Spicy noodles, ugly TikTok filters, and a playlist titled 'She Said I'm Like a Brother.'"
Liam chuckled.
"You're a menace."
"Come on, junior heartbreak," she said, holding out a hand. "Let's walk. You can cry into your taro drink while I roast you. It's a proven healing method."
Liam took her hand, letting her pull him up.
As they started walking side by side, he glanced at her.
"Hey, Lyka?"
"Hmm?"
"Thanks… for showing up. Even if it was, like, suspiciously well-timed."
She shrugged with a grin. "You looked like you were about five seconds away from dramatically lying down on the court and whispering 'Tell her I loved her' to the wind."
"…I was actually considering that."
"I know."
They both burst into laughter.
And as they made their way toward the food stalls—arguing over whether taro or wintermelon was the superior flavor—Liam didn't feel so crushed anymore.
Sure, his heart had taken a hit.
But Lyka had shown up, just like she always weirdly did.
Maybe not all stories ended with the person you wanted.
But sometimes… they started with the person you didn't expect.
___________