It was Rin's idea.
"Let's go to the amusement park," she said one morning before class, sliding a flyer across Leo's desk.
He blinked at the colorful paper. "Isn't that kind of… loud for us?"
Rin tilted her head. "Maybe we could try being loud. Together."
He stared at her, a bit stunned.
"…You're kind of scary when you're playful."
She smiled. "Good."
---
They arrived on Saturday just after the gates opened, greeted by a cacophony of music, bells, and excited shrieks. Leo hadn't been to an amusement park since he was ten, and even then, he mostly remembered long lines and sticky cotton candy.
Rin, on the other hand, walked in like she owned the place.
"Where first?" she asked.
Leo pointed cautiously. "Ferris wheel?"
"No warm-up round. Let's do the roller coaster."
He immediately regretted agreeing.
---
After being flipped upside down at high speed and screaming louder than he'd ever admitted possible, Leo stumbled out of the ride barely standing.
Rin, of course, was laughing.
"You survived," she said, handing him a bottle of water.
"Barely."
"You screamed louder than that six-year-old behind us."
Leo looked at her. "You find my suffering amusing?"
"Extremely."
But then she reached over and gently fixed his wind-blown hair.
So he forgave her.
---
They wandered through booths, tried fried ice cream (Rin loved it, Leo looked betrayed), played a water gun race (Rin won a stuffed shark), and rode a spinning teacup (Leo nearly passed out again).
But then, as the afternoon sun mellowed, they reached the carousel.
It was quieter here. Less crowded. Less chaotic.
"Let's ride it," Rin said.
Leo blinked. "Aren't carousels for kids?"
"No," she replied. "They're for remembering."
He didn't argue.
They sat side by side, not on horses, but on a wooden bench seat that rocked gently with the music.
The world spun slowly.
And Rin looked at him.
"You've changed," she said softly.
Leo looked at her. "How so?"
"You're braver. You smile more. You trust more."
He thought for a moment. "You're the one who gave me space to grow."
"And you filled that space," she said. "With your own choices."
The music shifted.
The carousel creaked.
Rin reached into her bag and pulled out a folded paper.
A printout. From her phone.
Leo took it and scanned the words.
It was an application form—for a creative writing competition. The deadline was soon.
"You should enter," she said. "You've always wanted to try."
Leo looked at her. "You remembered that?"
"I remember everything you say when you don't think anyone's listening."
He folded the paper and put it in his pocket.
"I'll do it," he said. "Because you believe in me."
Rin looked away. "Not just believe. I'm proud of you."
Leo leaned closer.
"Can I hold your hand again?"
She offered it before he finished the sentence.
And there, as the carousel turned slowly beneath the fading sun, they sat hand-in-hand, the world quieting around them.
They didn't need a confession.
Because the moment was one.