The classroom turned into a warzone.
Half the class argued over the plot, while the other half doodled costume ideas that had nothing to do with the supposed story. Some kids had already started acting out imaginary scenes in the corner, complete with exaggerated sword swings and over-the-top fainting. The noise level climbed until the teacher gave up trying to calm them down, retreating to her desk with a sigh and muttering something about "creative chaos."
Eli sat in the middle of it all, a notebook open in front of him. His pen hovered uselessly above the page as his classmates bombarded him with suggestions.
"Let's do a tragic love story!"
"No, no, comedy is better—it's easier!"
"Make it about star-crossed lovers!"
"Add a sword fight!"
"Let's do all of it!"
Eli groaned and let his forehead drop against the desk. "You guys are impossible."
His friend leaned over and poked his shoulder. "C'mon, Eli, you're the writer! Just mash everything together. A comedy-romance-tragedy-action hybrid!"
"That's not how stories work!" Eli protested, lifting his head. His eyes darted helplessly between the scribbles on the board—hearts, swords, a stick figure crying dramatically—and his empty page. "We need focus!"
But no one was listening.
When he finally looked up, he caught Kai's gaze. Calm. Steady. That unreadable look that always made Eli feel like his thoughts were too loud. Unlike the others, Kai wasn't shouting or drawing or acting out ridiculous scenes. He just sat there, observing, as if waiting for Eli to remember how to breathe.
"Which do you want?" Kai asked simply.
Eli blinked. "Me?"
"You're writing it," Kai said, his voice even. "It should be something you like."
The words sank deeper than they should have. Around them, the class continued to argue and laugh, but for a moment, the noise dulled, like someone had turned down the volume on the world.
Eli's throat tightened. His first instinct was to deflect, to wave it off, to insist that it didn't matter. But Kai's gaze pinned him in place. He swallowed. "I'll… figure it out."
Kai didn't press. He never did. He just leaned back in his chair, eyes still lingering on Eli, like he already knew what answer would come.
The rest of the period was a blur of chaos—half-baked ideas, jokes that spiraled out of control, the class rep trying desperately to restore order. By the time the bell rang, they still hadn't agreed on a genre, only that Eli was officially the scriptwriter whether he liked it or not.
As the room emptied, Eli stuffed his notebook into his bag with a sigh. He told himself it was fine. He could handle this. Writing was something he'd always done, even if only for himself. Still, with everyone counting on him—and Kai set to play the lead opposite him—the pressure weighed heavy on his chest.
That night, Eli dreamed again.
He stood on a stage, but it wasn't the classroom or even the school auditorium. It was a courtyard bathed in lantern light, the air warm with the scent of summer. Paper lanterns swayed overhead, casting soft golden glows across stone paths and painted screens. The crowd was faceless, only shadows at the edge of vision, waiting in silence.
Eli held a script in his hands, its pages fluttering like wings. He could see the words written there, though he hadn't written them yet. His own voice filled the air, trembling at first, then steady.
And across from him—Kai.
Not in a school uniform, but in old robes, sleeves brushing the ground as he moved. His silver gaze was sharper here, cutting straight through the dream haze, his presence pulling Eli in like gravity.
"Do you trust me?" Dream-Kai asked, his voice low, intimate.
Eli's breath caught. His fingers tightened around the script. He didn't know the line, hadn't prepared for it, yet the answer rose unbidden from somewhere deep inside.
"Yes."
The lanterns swayed harder, their light blooming like fire. The stage dissolved into brightness, and the warmth of Kai's smile was the last thing Eli saw before waking.
He lay in bed, heart pounding, ceiling spinning above him. It was just a dream. Just another strange, impossible dream.
But his classmates' voices wouldn't leave him alone. *You and Kai are always together. You'd make the perfect leads.*
Eli pressed a pillow over his face and groaned.
This play was going to kill him.