The last period felt like it was holding its breath.
Sara sat through the class, pretending the clock wasn't moving at half-speed, pretending her mind wasn't replaying what Leo said earlier — Will you stay after school today? Just… hang around?
It wasn't a big request on paper. But the way he said it, the quiet crack in his voice, the vulnerability he couldn't hide…
yeah.
It meant something.
And she couldn't shake the feeling that today was going to shift the air between them just a little more.
When the final bell rang, everyone bolted like they were racing for freedom. Sara packed her books slowly, calmly, even though her heart felt like it had a little drummer inside keeping way too much rhythm.
Maya leaned against the table. "You're staying late today, right?"
Sara nodded.
Maya's eyebrow lifted just enough to be annoying. "With Leo?"
Sara rolled her eyes. "Don't make this weird."
Maya grinned. "Girl, I don't have to make it weird. It is weird."
Then softer: "Be careful though. He's not as okay as he pretends."
"I know," Sara said.
And she did. That was the whole reason she stayed.
---
Outside the school building
Leo was leaning against the steps, hoodie off now, hair messy like he'd run his hands through it fifty times. He looked calmer than earlier, but still not fully Leo.
When he spotted her, he straightened a little — not too obvious, but enough to show he'd been waiting.
"You came," he said.
"You asked," she replied.
He tried not to smile, but failed. Just a tiny one, barely there, but real.
They started walking, not toward the main gate, but down the side path behind the classrooms where the shade was cooler and no one really went. Students were loud near the gate, laughing, yelling, slamming bags into each other. But back here, it was just the quiet rustle of trees and the hum of distant traffic.
They walked without speaking at first. The silence wasn't heavy. It was… new. Comfortable.
Finally, Leo stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Sorry about earlier. For disappearing."
"It's okay."
"No, it's not. I shouldn't just shut down like that."
Sara glanced at him. "Everyone has bad days, Leo. Yours just happens louder."
He snorted. "Yeah, well, I'd take your version any day."
Sara kicked a pebble along the path. "You think I don't feel things loudly?"
He looked at her — really looked. "No. I think you feel things quietly. But deep."
She didn't know why that made her chest warm in an uncomfortable way. She looked away quickly.
They reached the back bench near the old mango tree — the one that had been there since before their parents' time. Someone had carved initials into the wood decades ago. Someone else had added a heart. Students kept repainting it every year, but the scratching underneath always showed through.
Leo sat first. Sara sat beside him, leaving a small but intentional space.
"So," she said, "what did you want to tell me?"
Leo froze for a second. Like he hadn't expected her to ask directly.
Then he sighed. "Dad's mad. Not because I almost fought. He's mad because… he thinks I'm turning into him."
Sara blinked. "You're nothing like him."
"You don't know him."
"I know you."
Leo's jaw tightened. "That's the problem."
"How is that a problem?"
He leaned back, staring at the leaves overhead. "Because you see the parts I try to hide from everyone else. The parts I don't control. The parts that get me in trouble."
"Those parts also stopped someone from hurting me yesterday," she said softly.
His head dropped. His voice was quiet. "I shouldn't have let myself lose it like that."
"You didn't lose it."
He laughed once, hollow. "I wanted to."
That silence was heavier. Not uncomfortable — but real.
Then Leo spoke again, voice steady. "When I was younger, Dad… wasn't simple. He wasn't violent or anything, don't imagine that. Just… strict. Hard. Everything was discipline, everything was failure if it wasn't perfect. And when I messed up — which was always — he'd look at me like I was already doomed."
Sara's heart squeezed.
"So when the principal called," Leo continued, "it wasn't about you. Or the fight. It was about him thinking he was right all along. That I'm exactly what he predicted."
Sara touched the bench, her fingers brushing the old carvings. "Leo… you're not repeating his life."
"But it feels like it," he whispered. "And I hate it."
She hesitated, then asked softly:
"What do you want your life to be?"
He looked at her again, and there was something raw in his eyes. Something honest, painful, and surprisingly hopeful.
"Not this," he said finally. "Not feeling like every mistake is the end. Not feeling like I'm one wrong move away from becoming someone I don't want to be."
"And what do you want instead?"
Leo swallowed. "I want someone who doesn't give up on me at the first sign of trouble."
Her breath stilled.
Just for a second.
"Leo…"
He shook his head quickly. "I'm not saying that to freak you out. I just mean— I'm not used to having someone show up for me. And it scares me."
"Why?"
"Because I don't know how to deserve it."
Sara didn't know what she was supposed to say at first. Words felt too small. Too flimsy. But she spoke anyway.
"You don't have to deserve someone caring about you," she said. "You just have to accept it."
Leo stared at her like he was hearing those words for the first time in his life.
A breeze picked up. Leaves shifted overhead. A bird called somewhere above them. Everything felt paused — but not frozen. Just suspended.
Then Leo asked a question so soft, she barely heard it.
"Do you regret getting close to me?"
Sara didn't even hesitate. "No."
"Not even after yesterday?"
"Not even then."
His shoulders dropped — relief, guilt, and something warm melting together.
Then something happened.
Leo shifted closer.
Not enough to touch.
But enough to break the distance they'd been holding onto for chapters.
He rested his forearms on his knees, leaning forward slightly, looking at the ground.
"I don't know what this is between us," he said quietly. "But it's… different."
Sara's pulse kicked. "Different how?"
He shook his head. "I don't want to label it wrong. I don't want to scare you off."
"Leo," she said, voice steadier than she felt, "I'm not scared."
He looked at her. Really looked.
And that was the moment — the one people write poems about but never admit happened.
The air felt heavier. Warmer.
Not romantic yet — but undeniably more than friendship.
Then Leo stood suddenly. "Come on."
Sara blinked. "Where?"
He held out his hand — not touching her, just offering. "There's something I want to show you."
She hesitated only a second before standing.
They walked behind the abandoned storage shed, where the school boundary met a small hill. Students rarely came here because the ground was uneven and the view wasn't much. But Leo led her up the slope, steady and silent.
At the top, the whole town stretched out below — rooftops, shops, dusty roads, a small river glinting in the distance. The sunlight hit everything just right. It wasn't stunning. It wasn't magical.
It was real.
And maybe that made it even better.
Leo exhaled slowly. "I come here when I feel like I'm drowning."
Sara looked at him. "Why?"
"Because being above things reminds me I'm not stuck."
She understood that more than he knew.
They sat — not close, not far, just the right distance for two people figuring out what they were to each other.
Minutes passed in quiet. Not awkward quiet. Healing quiet.
Finally, Leo spoke again.
"Sara… can I ask you something real?"
Her heart jumped. "Ask."
"If I ever push you away again — not because I want to, but because I'm scared — will you still… remind me you're not leaving?"
Sara didn't look away. "Yes."
His eyes softened. Deepened.
"Okay," he whispered.
The wind brushed through the grass around them. Somewhere below, a bell rang faintly from the primary section. The world kept moving — but up here, it felt like everything had paused, giving them space to breathe.
Sara tucked her hair behind her ear. Leo noticed, but didn't comment.
"You know," he said, "I didn't think you'd come today."
"Why?"
"Because I'm complicated."
Sara smiled a little. "Everyone is."
"Not like me."
"Maybe not," she admitted softly. "But I still chose to be here."
Leo shut his eyes for a second — like he was storing that sentence somewhere safe.
Then he said something Sara did not expect:
"I don't want to lose whatever this is."
Her breath caught again.
"Neither do I."
Their eyes held — not with romance, not yet, but with the promise of something growing. Something slow. Something steady.
Something real.
And that was enough.