The next week, Eli stayed behind after classes to work on script revisions. The classroom was quiet in a way it never was during the day, the usual chatter and laughter replaced by the faint hum of cicadas outside and the soft creak of the building settling. Golden sunlight streamed through the windows, painting the desks in long shadows.
Eli sat hunched over his notebook, scribbling messy notes, crossing things out, and muttering under his breath as he tried to figure out how to fix the second act. His friends had dumped a dozen ideas on him—half of them impossible, the other half ridiculous—and he was stuck trying to shape them into something that actually made sense.
He didn't expect anyone else to still be around. So when he heard the faint sound of movement, he looked up in surprise.
Kai was at the front of the room, quietly moving props that had been left out from the last rehearsal. He picked up a fake sword, set it neatly against the wall, then adjusted a painted backdrop that leaned crooked against the board. His movements were slow, careful, almost methodical.
"You don't have to help," Eli said, pushing his glasses up his nose as he glanced back at his notes.
Kai didn't answer right away. He just gave a soft hum, like he hadn't even thought about whether he wanted to help or not. After another moment, his voice broke the silence.
"Want to run the lines?"
Eli froze, pen hovering above the page. "…Just the two of us?"
Kai nodded, calm as always. "No audience."
Eli hesitated. Practicing in front of the class had been a nightmare, but here, in the quiet, it felt… different. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Against his better judgment, he closed the notebook and stood up. "Fine. Just once."
They stood a few feet apart, scripts in hand, but the room didn't feel like a classroom anymore. Without the noise of their classmates and the constant teasing, there was a strange stillness between them. Every word seemed louder, heavier, like it wasn't just a line to memorize but something that carried weight.
Eli's voice shook as he read, "…And if fate allows, I'll find you again."
The words hung in the air. Kai stepped a little closer, his tone low but steady as he replied, "Then I'll wait. No matter how long it takes."
Eli's breath caught. The way Kai said it—it didn't sound like acting. It sounded real. Too real. His chest tightened, a strange ache spreading through him, because those exact words… he had heard them before. Not here, not in this world, but in his dreams.
He laughed nervously, trying to shake it off. "You're too good at this. Seriously. Makes me look terrible."
Kai didn't laugh. His eyes lingered on Eli's face, calm and unreadable, but there was something behind them, something Eli couldn't name. When Kai finally spoke, his voice was quiet.
"Maybe I've had practice."
Eli blinked. "Practice?"
Kai didn't explain. He just gave the faintest curve of his lips, like he'd said too much already.
The silence stretched, and Eli felt his pulse hammering in his ears. He wanted to ask what Kai meant, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he forced a shaky laugh, packed up his notebook, and said, "I should head home."
Kai only nodded, watching him with that same steady gaze.
Long after Eli left the classroom, the words followed him home. Then I'll wait. No matter how long it takes. They circled in his chest like an unanswered question, refusing to let him go.