The late morning sun spilled over the schoolyard, warm but not punishing. The strips of light cutting across Adrian's face as he darted across the badminton court. His sneakers squeaked against the painted lines, movements quick, fluid, like he could keep going for hours.
Across the net, Leon was less fortunate. His shirt clung damp to his back, his chest rising and falling with every labored breath. He bent slightly at the knees, racket loose in his grip, sweat running down his temple.
"Dude, are you on drugs or something?" Leon wheezed, swiping the back of his hand across his forehead. Despite his exhaustion, his grin was easy, teasing. "How the hell are you still bouncing around like that?"
Adrian smirked, twirling his racket once before tossing the shuttlecock into the air. His blonde hair caught the light, a glint of gold against the backdrop of the sky. "I just love watching you lose to me every round," he shot back, laughter curling around the words as he launched the serve.
Leon groaned but swung anyway. The shot was messy as the sun slid into his eyes at the last second, glare blinding him, and the shuttlecock ricocheted wildly off his racket. Not toward Adrian. Not even close.
Adrian followed its trajectory with his gaze, mouth tugging downward the moment he saw where it was heading. The birdie rocketed across the edge of the court and smacked, dead center against the head of someone sitting on the bench.
"Oof." Adrian winced. He lowered his racket and dragged his eyes back to Leon, unimpressed. "Bro. Seriously?"
"My legs gave out." Leon had already collapsed to the ground like a dramatic corpse, stretching himself flat on the warm cement. "You don't mind getting that for me, right?"
Adrian exhaled through his nose, long-suffering. Typical Leon. Still, he jogged off the court, racket dangling lazily from his hand as he crossed the short distance to the bench. He expected a random classmate, someone who'd laugh it off or curse a little. What he didn't expect was the sharp, unreadable stare that met him when he stopped in front of the seated boy.
Ivan.
Adrian knew him, though not personally. Everybody did. The name floated around classrooms, whispered between desks, wrapped in the kind of curiosity reserved for people who stood apart without trying. Rumor painted him as a loner with a permanent scowl, arrogant by default and silver spoon in his mouth since birth. Adrian had dismissed half of it as exaggeration, the kind of nonsense bored students spun for entertainment.
But here, standing in front of him, Adrian understood why the stories spread. Ivan's gaze was cool, cutting like a blade held steady against his skin. His posture wasn't aggressive, but it was closed, self-contained as if the bench itself was a barricade he dared anyone to cross.
Adrian opened his mouth anyway, a practiced smile already tugging at his lips. "Sorry—" He didn't get further.
Ivan snapped his book shut with one precise motion, rose to his feet, and walked away without a word. No glance back, no acknowledgment, nothing but the faint sound of shoes against concrete fading down the path.
Adrian blinked, the silence left in his wake heavier than expected. For once, the usual witty retort didn't come. His brows drew together slightly, the easy smile slipping for the barest fraction of a second.
Weirdo. The word surfaced unbidden, though it didn't land with as much conviction as he wanted. The shuttlecock lay abandoned near the bench. Adrian stooped, scooped it up, and straightened, turning just as Leon's voice rang out across the court.
"Ian! You good over there?"
"Yeah!" Adrian called back, plastering on his usual grin. He jogged back to the court, tossing the birdie at Leon with casual precision.
"C'mon, you've had enough rest." He planted himself at the baseline again, racket spinning between his fingers. Leon was still stretching like a dog waking from a nap, dragging it out in mock suffering.
"Tell you what," Adrian added, smirk curling. "If you manage to actually score a point this round, I'll give you the number of that girl you've been crushing on for, what, three years? Consider it a reward."
That lit a fire under Leon. He scrambled upright, glaring across the net. "Don't act all mighty. This time, I'm wiping that smug look off your face."
Adrian laughed under his breath, shaking his head as he lifted the racket. The sun was bright, the game still theirs, but in the corner of his mind, the image lingered. The sound of a book snapping shut, the weight of a gaze colder than anything he'd been met with before.