Luna had always been invisible. She liked it that way.
But over the next few days, "invisible" became impossible—because everywhere she went, Iris seemed to be there.
In the cafeteria, Iris would glide past like sunlight cutting through glass, instantly surrounded by students leaning close, laughing too loudly, clinging to every word she spoke. In the halls, she stood out like a brushstroke of color in an otherwise gray painting. Teachers knew her by name. Even the janitor greeted her with an affectionate nod.
Luna sat quietly in her corner, sketchpad balanced on her lap. She told herself she wasn't watching, wasn't keeping track of how often Iris' laughter rang across the room, or how Iris seemed to collect attention like it was the easiest thing in the world.
Yet her pencil betrayed her again.
On the blank page, lines curved into a familiar silhouette: Iris, head tilted back in laughter, eyes bright as the afternoon sun.
Luna slammed the pad shut, cheeks burning. What's wrong with me?
The next day, as Luna made her way out of the library, a hand suddenly caught her wrist.
"Hey, Rooftop Girl."
Her heart stuttered. She turned—of course, it was Iris.
Iris' grin was wide, effortless, like she hadn't just startled Luna half to death. "You keep running away whenever you see me. That's rude, you know."
"I—I don't," Luna stammered, pulling her wrist free. "I just… don't like crowds."
Iris leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Neither do I. But I play along."
Luna frowned, confused. Iris gestured toward the hallway buzzing with students. "People expect me to shine. So I shine. That's how it works."
The words lingered in Luna's chest, heavy with meaning. Play along?
Before she could ask, a group of classmates approached, calling Iris' name. One of them noticed Luna and raised an eyebrow.
"Who's this?" the boy asked.
Luna froze, ready to retreat. But Iris casually slung an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close.
"She's mine," Iris said smoothly.
Luna nearly choked. "W-what—"
"Relax," Iris whispered into her ear, just loud enough for Luna alone. "I mean my rooftop partner."
The group laughed, teased, then drifted away. Iris finally let go, chuckling at Luna's stunned expression.
"You—you can't just say things like that," Luna muttered, face hot.
"Why not?" Iris tilted her head. "It kept them from asking too many questions. And…" She paused, eyes glinting. "I like the sound of it."
Luna's chest tightened. She didn't know if she wanted to run—or stay closer.
That evening, they ended up back on the rooftop again, as if drawn by invisible threads.
Iris sprawled across the floor, hands folded under her head, staring at the stars. "Ever think about how small we are?" she asked suddenly.
"All the time," Luna admitted. "It's… comforting."
"Comforting?" Iris turned her head to look at her. "Most people find it terrifying."
Luna hugged her knees. "If I'm small, then my mistakes are small too. They won't matter to the universe. That helps me breathe."
For a moment, Iris didn't respond. Then she laughed softly, but there was no humor in it. "If only it were that simple."
Something in her tone made Luna glance over. For the first time, Iris didn't look untouchable. The city lights reflected in her eyes, but there was a shadow there too.
Luna's chest ached. She wanted to ask—what's haunting you?—but before she could, Iris sat up and changed the subject with her usual grin.
"You should draw me," Iris said suddenly.
Luna blinked. "What?"
"Your sketchpad's full of buildings and strangers. But not me. Why?"
Because I already do, Luna thought but didn't dare say. Instead, she mumbled, "I don't… draw people I know."
"Then don't know me," Iris teased, leaning close. "Pretend I'm a stranger. Go on."
Luna's fingers trembled as she opened her pad. Pencil to paper, she tried to capture Iris—her mischievous eyes, the tilt of her lips. But no matter how carefully she sketched, nothing on the page came close to the warmth sitting in front of her.
When she finally showed Iris, the girl's smirk softened. "You see me differently than everyone else."
The words sent a shiver down Luna's spine.
Just as the moment thickened with unspoken tension, Iris suddenly stood.
Her expression shifted—serious, unreadable.
"You should be careful around me, Luna."
Luna blinked. "What… do you mean?"
Iris' smile returned, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I told you, didn't I? There are people I don't want finding me. If you stay close, they might start noticing you too."
And with that, she walked toward the stairwell, leaving Luna clutching her sketchpad, heart torn between fear… and the undeniable pull to follow.