As we cut across the courtyard, I spot Kai, Paris and Berlin by the lockers.
Paris has changed out of her costume but still wears the dramatic stage makeup, and she’s got a small bouquet tucked in the crook of her arm. Her hair’s tied back in a loose bun, and she’s smiling. Actually smiling.
At something Kai just said.
It catches me off guard.
Lilia follows my gaze and nudges me with her elbow. “C’mon. We should go congratulate her.”
We start walking across the courtyard, the four of us in a slow line. And the closer we get, the more I feel the cold retreat from my skin, replaced with something warmer.
Kai looks up first.
He sees us. Sees me.
He says nothing, but his expression gives him away. The slight widening of his eyes. The subtle parting of his lips. The crease forming between his brows.
He’s… shocked?Is it the hair?
Paris notices his shift, turning slightly to follow his line of sight.
“Oh,” she says, smiling at us tightly as we approach. “H-hey.”
Berlin just nods, arms crossed. Composed and cool, as always. But it’s Kai I can’t stop looking at.
And he still hasn’t looked away.
He’s in a black velvet suit jacket, and beneath it, a deep charcoal shirt, top buttons undone. No tie.
Flashy, but never tacky.
Even standing still, he draws the eye.
And not just mine.
People glance over from across the courtyard, whispering and staring. Like he’s not a person at all, but something brighter.
His light brown hair is messier than usual, pushed back carelessly, one lock falling across his forehead. Messy, and yet somehow, he makes it work.
But tonight, there’s something off. Barely there, but I see it.
He’s paler than usual. Not sickly, but enough that it stands out against the dark of his clothes. The usual glow beneath his skin is dulled, like someone’s dimmed a switch behind his eyes. And there are shadows under those eyes too, fine, smudgy ones, almost artfully placed, if not for how real they look.
He still looks good. Of course he does. Too good, if I’m being honest.
But most of all, I realize he looks…tired.
“Paris,” Lilia says gently, finally breaking the tension. “You were incredible. Seriously.”
The shy smile that pulls at Paris’s lips is instant and genuine. “Thank you,” she says softly.
“That role was made for you,” Bea chimes in.
Paris glances down, then up again, cheeks flushed even under the last of her dramatic stage makeup. “Thanks. I—really appreciate it.”
She hugs her bouquet closer, fingers gently adjusting the crinkled cellophane. Her eyes drift back to Kai, just briefly, and it’s almost like they have a silent conversation at that moment.
One only they understand.
