Leo always thought the quietest moments came after the chaos.
But lately, it was the quiet before that frightened him most.
---
The school cultural festival was a week away.
Everyone was busy. Classrooms turned into haunted houses and cafés. Costumes were sewn, posters painted, food menus argued over.
Even Kai had been roped into helping with the drama club's "Romeo and Juliet in Space" production. (He was playing the moon.)
Leo, meanwhile, was on the literature committee. He and Rin were in charge of editing and printing a short story anthology written by students.
They sat together in the library after school, red pens in hand, heads bent over pages.
Sometimes they whispered.
Sometimes they just looked at each other.
It was peaceful.
But beneath the calm, something was shifting.
---
"Have you told your parents yet?" Rin asked one afternoon.
Leo hesitated. "Told them…?"
"That you want to stay."
Ah.
Leo looked down at the manuscript in front of him.
"No. Not yet."
She didn't push.
But that night, her silence followed him all the way back to his dorm.
---
He called them three days later.
His mother answered.
"Leo?" Her voice was warm. Tired. Far away.
"Hey, Mom."
They talked for ten minutes. About the weather. His classes. Her job.
Then, finally, he said it:
"I want to stay."
There was a long pause.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
Another pause.
Then, softly:
"We'll talk about it when we visit for the festival."
That was all.
But it was enough to make Leo's chest tight for days.
---
The week passed in a blur.
The festival atmosphere consumed the school. Booths, banners, music, the smell of fresh takoyaki and grilled mochi filled the air. Students buzzed with excitement. Even the usually sleepy corners of the campus were alive.
Leo and Rin set up a booth displaying the literature club's anthology. Decorated in soft colors, paper cranes, and hand-drawn borders, it felt like a piece of themselves laid bare for others to read.
Visitors stopped by.
Some smiled and left notes. Others stayed to read entire pages. A few even cried.
One girl came back twice to reread Rin's story.
"You made her cry," Leo said.
"She said it helped," Rin replied.
They shared a quiet moment then, the kind that didn't need words.
---
Yuki's live radio station was the hit of the first day.
"I'll be interviewing students all day," she said proudly. "And Kai is banned from singing on-air."
Kai, of course, snuck onto the mic anyway.
Hana, meanwhile, challenged everyone to eating contests. She won all three.
"Next year," she said, wiping her mouth. "I demand a championship belt."
By the time the sun began to dip below the horizon, the campus was glowing with lanterns, laughter, and anticipation.
Everyone was waiting for the rooftop fireworks.
---
Rin invited Leo.
They climbed the stairs quietly. The air was cooler up there, the sky wide and deep and waiting.
Only a few students had been allowed up—student council, contest winners, and performers. Rin had received a special invite from the principal for her writing.
They sat on a bench near the edge, legs swinging over the rooftop.
Below them, the school glowed.
Above, the sky pulsed with stars.
"I never liked fireworks before," she said.
"Why not?"
"They disappear too quickly. And they make people pretend things are perfect."
Leo looked at her. The way the wind brushed her hair, the way her eyes reflected the sky.
"You don't have to pretend with me," he said.
She looked back.
Then whispered:
"Then promise me something."
"Anything."
"When your parents come, no matter what they say… don't run."
Leo hesitated.
"I won't," he said.
The first firework cracked open the sky, blooming red and gold.
They watched in silence. Leo's hand found hers without thinking.
More fireworks followed. Blue, silver, green, heart-shaped ones that drew squeals from the students nearby.
Rin leaned her head against his shoulder.
"I want more of this," she said.
He didn't reply.
He didn't need to.
But the next morning, when he saw his parents waiting at the school gates—
His legs almost turned him around.
Not because he didn't want to stay.
But because saying it out loud meant risking everything.
And Leo Shen had never been good at saying what he really wanted.