Author's POV (because sometimes I like to watch my own characters suffer before I give them peace):
There was a very specific kind of quiet that only existed when April Delos Reyes was pretending she was fine.
Not the peaceful kind.
Not the "I'm calm and collected" kind.
The kind where the air felt too still, like the universe itself was holding its breath and waiting for someone.. anyone, to say something wrong.
April sat by the windows of Section E's classroom, legs crossed, back straight, headphones on but music low. She wore black. Not dramatic black. Not a statement black. Just… black. Simple. Clean. The same outfit she'd worn for the competition.
The same outfit that made her feel like she was wearing an armour instead of clothes.
She looked effortless.
And far.
Across the room, laughter existed. Voices overlapped. Someone was arguing about snacks. Someone else was humming off-key. Life was continuing at its usual, noisy pace.
April was not part of it.
Yuri Hanamitchi stood on the opposite side of the room.
Far.
Too far.
If this were any other day, he'd be near her without thinking. Shoulder brushing hers. Hand resting at hers. Quiet comments only meant for her.
The kind of closeness that didn't need permission.
But today.
Today, there was distance.
Not loud.
Not angry.
Just… space.
The worst kind.
Yuri leaned against a desk, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes flicking to April every few seconds like muscle memory refused to let him forget where she was.
Every time he looked, he saw the same thing: her expression unreadable, gaze fixed outside the window, fingers tapping lightly against her phone case. And that one headphone from the past.
She didn't look back.
And that hurt more than any argument could.
They hadn't fought. Not really. No raised voices. No dramatic accusations. Just a conversation that ended too early. Words that stayed unsaid. A look that lingered too long. A silence.
Now here they were.
In the same room.
Different worlds.
Yuri exhaled slowly, pushing himself off the desk like he might walk over, but then he stopped.
His hands curled into fists, then relaxed.
Not yet.
Across the room, April adjusted her headphones; the song paused. She didn't restart it. She just stared out, eyes unfocused. She took out to see her camera and thought she looked pathetic.
Really, miss?
She hated this version of herself.
The one that shut down.
The one that went quiet instead of asking for comfort.
But she didn't know how to bridge the space between her and Yuri right now.
So she stayed still.
The classroom door opened.
Noise spilled in.
Jayjay.
Ci-N.
They entered, laughing and discussing about the popcorn at the stall. She had forgotten about the earlier incident. Food really comes first, huh?
Her eyes landed on April first.
And she froze.
April wasn't laughing.
Wasn't talking.
Wasn't with Yuri.
Jayjay frowned, confusion flickering across her face, then concern. She looked around again and spotted Yuri. Far away, silent, tense.
Oh.
Keifer's voice cut through the air. "So you're alive."
Jayjay flinched slightly, then snapped her head toward him. "You're one to talk."
Keifer stood near the corridor entrance, arms crossed, expression sharp but eyes alert.
Jayjay opened her mouth to say something, then stopped.
April didn't look up.
Yuri didn't move.
Something heavy settled in Jayjay's chest.
This wasn't her place to fix.
Not now.
She turned away from the tension, heart beating faster than it should, and walked back into the corridor. Away from the classroom, away from the weight pressing against her ribs.
And that's when she felt it.
The presence.
Keifer hadn't followed immediately. He never rushed. But a few seconds later, she sensed him behind her before she heard him.
"Jayjay."
Not loud.
Not demanding.
Just her name, low and rough, like it had weight.
She stopped walking.
Didn't turn around.
Keifer closed the distance in three quiet steps.
He didn't touch her right away.
Which somehow made it worse.
"You okay?" he asked, voice softer than anyone else ever heard.
Jayjay swallowed. "I don't know."
That was honest.
Keifer reached out then, just curling his fingers around her wrist, grounding her. Warm. Solid.
She turned to face him.
The corridor was empty. Light filtered in through high windows, dust floating lazily in the air like the world had slowed down just for them.
Keifer looked down at her, eyes searching her face, brows slightly drawn together. He didn't smirk. Didn't tease.
Just… Keifer.
"You just.. ditched us." he murmured.
"I had to," she replied quietly. "I didn't want to, but… I had to."
He nodded once. No questions. Not yet.
They stood there, close but not touching anywhere else, the silence stretching—but this time, it wasn't uncomfortable.
It was careful.
Keifer lifted his hand slowly, giving her time to pull away.
She didn't.
His thumb brushed just under her jaw, tilting her face up ever so slightly. His voice dropped, almost a whisper. "You don't have to explain right now."
Jayjay's eyes stung. "You're not mad?"
"I'd tell you if I were."
A small laugh escaped her, shaky. "You'd shout."
"I would," he admitted. Then softer, "But not at you."
Something in her chest loosened.
Keifer stepped closer, closing the last bit of space between them. He didn't sit. Didn't lean. He stayed standing, steady, like he was bracing himself to be whatever she needed.
Jayjay rested her forehead against him without thinking.
Keifer froze for half a second.
Then his arms came around her.
Not tight.
Not desperate.
Just… there.
She exhaled, the tension draining out of her shoulders. "You smell like coffee."
"Rude," he muttered, but there was a smile in his voice. "It was.. Yuri, who forced me to drink it."
She laughed softly against him.
Keifer's chin rested lightly on the top of her head. He didn't say "it's okay." Didn't say "everything will be fine."
He just stayed.
And that was enough.
After a moment, he murmured, barely audible, "I'm here. You don't have to be strong with me."
Jayjay's fingers curled into his jacket.
They stayed like that for a while, two people standing in a quiet corridor while the world waited politely.
Back in the classroom, April finally looked away from the window.
Her eyes landed on Yuri.
He was already looking at her.
Their gazes met.
No anger.
No blame.
Just distance.
And the unspoken promise that this wasn't the end.
Just a pause.