Ace always thought it was strange—how two people could like so many of the same things, yet still feel entirely new to each other every day.
With Sarah, it was like that.
It started with the small things, the accidental overlaps that seemed like coincidences but kept piling up until they no longer felt like chance.
She would hum a tune under her breath, and Ace would recognize it instantly—not because it was popular, but because it was one of those songs he had looped quietly on his cracked headphones during long walks home. When he mentioned it, she raised her head in surprise, the corners of her lips curving into that mischievous smile he was starting to memorize.
"You listen to that too?" she asked, her voice carrying both disbelief and delight.
"Of course," Ace shrugged, pretending it wasn't a big deal. But his heart was buzzing, because the universe had just handed him another thread connecting them.
And then there were the novels. She read late into the night, turning pages until dawn, and when she talked about them, her eyes gleamed in a way that made him forget the world. Once, she quoted a line from a story he'd always carried close, almost like a secret prayer.
He nearly dropped his drink. "Wait—you know that line?"
"Know it?" she laughed softly. "It's my favorite."
That was the first time he thought, maybe this isn't coincidence. Maybe it's something else.
---
The more time they spent together, the harder it became for Ace to ignore the quiet drum of his own heart. He found himself studying her in ways he had never studied anyone before—not out of curiosity, but out of a need to remember.
How she tilted her head when she was puzzled.
How she tapped her fingers when she was restless.
How her laughter always seemed to come in two bursts, the second softer than the first.
Why do I keep noticing these things? he wondered. And why do they stay with me even when I don't mean for them to?
It was ridiculous. Dangerous, even. But there was no stopping it.
Sarah was becoming the rhythm of his days.
---
It was late afternoon when the thought finally hit him—not the casual I like her, not the joking she's fun to be around, but the truth, sharp and clear:
I'm falling for her.
They were sitting on the low wall near the park, legs dangling, the sun spilling gold across the sky like paintbrush strokes. Sarah was talking about an anime arc she adored, describing it with so much passion that Ace barely heard the words. He was too busy watching her, every detail magnified.
Her voice.
Her hands as they moved with her story.
Her eyes, alive in the fading light.
And in that moment, Ace knew.
Knew he was already too far gone to turn back.
---
Confession. The word haunted him for days. It followed him into class, into sleepless nights, into the very air around him.
Tell her. Don't tell her.
What if it ruins everything?
What if she laughs?
What if… what if she feels the same?
Every time he looked at her, the battle raged louder.
One evening, as they walked home, the silence between them grew different—not awkward, but heavy, like something unsaid was hanging there, daring him to break it. Sarah was humming again, some song they both knew, her gaze lost in the horizon.
Ace's palms were sweaty. His chest tightened. Words crowded at the back of his throat, and before he could stop himself, they spilled out:
"Sarah."
She turned, brows raised, that small smile on her lips that always weakened his resolve.
He swallowed hard. "I… I like you."
The world seemed to stop. Even the wind paused, as though waiting for her reply.
Ace's heart pounded so violently it hurt. He wanted to run, to hide, to take the words back—but they were out now, hanging between them, raw and unpolished.
For a moment, Sarah just stared at him.
And then—she laughed. Not mockery, not disbelief. Just a soft, surprised laugh, like she had been waiting for this moment far too long.
"Took you long enough," she said.
Ace blinked, stunned. "…What?"
Her eyes softened. "I like you too."
The tension inside him shattered like glass. Relief flooded him, dizzying and wild, and he laughed too—half in joy, half in disbelief.
"You could've said something earlier," he muttered, trying to regain composure.
"And miss this look on your face?" she teased, pointing at him. "No way."
---
They didn't kiss that day. They didn't need to.
The air between them was enough, charged and glowing. Every step they took after that felt lighter, freer, as if the world itself had shifted to let them walk through it together.
As they parted ways that night, Ace turned back once, watching her silhouette fade into the shadows. Something inside him whispered, with the quiet certainty of fate:
That was the day everything truly began.
---
And so it began.
Every shared song now carried their laughter.
Every story now echoed with their inside jokes.
Every anime, every late-night talk, every unspoken glance became threads weaving a tapestry neither of them could have imagined.
Ace thought to himself: If this is the start, I never want it to end.
And though he couldn't know it yet, that beginning would one day make the ending unbearable.