The change reached the school before anyone named it. It started with a summons.
Juni was called out of class mid-morning, the intercom crackling his name in a neutral tone that set his nerves on edge. He stood slowly, heart thudding.
Elian looked up. Juni met his eyes. "I'll be back," he said quietly.
Elian nodded. "I'll be here."
The counselor's office smelled faintly of disinfectant and old paper. Juni sat across from a woman with kind eyes and a carefully blank expression.
"This is just a check-in," she said. "We've received a concern."
Juni's hands curled together. "…About what?"
"About you," she replied gently. "About whether everything at home is okay."
Juni's chest tightened. He remembered Evelyn's words.
Options, not orders.
"I'm safe right now," Juni said carefully. "And I have adults who know what's happening."
The counselor nodded, absorbing the answer without pressing. "That's good to hear," she said. "If you need anything, my door is open."
Juni left with his pulse racing—but intact. When he returned to class, the room felt different.
Not hostile. Alert.
A few students glanced up as he walked back to his seat. Elian didn't ask questions. He slid his notebook over, tapping the edge once.
You okay?
Juni wrote back: Yeah. Still me.
Elian smiled faintly.
By lunchtime, rumors had shifted shape. Not sharp accusations—just speculation.
"Did you hear he was called out of class?"
"Something about his family, I think."
Juni kept his head down. Elian sat beside him anyway.
Visible. Unmoved.
In the afternoon, a teacher asked Juni to stay back after class. Elian waited outside without being asked. He leaned against the wall, arms folded loosely, presence unmistakable.
Juni noticed when he came out. "…You didn't have to wait," he said.
"I wanted to," Elian replied. The answer carried weight now.
Walking home, Juni spoke softly. "…It feels like people are looking at me differently."
Elian nodded. "They are."
"…Is that bad?"
Elian considered it. "Not if you're still standing," he said.
Juni breathed out slowly. "I am."
That evening, Evelyn listened as Juni described the day. "You handled that well," she said. "You shared only what you chose to."
Juni nodded. "…I think things are moving now," he said. "Even if I'm not pushing them."
Evelyn met his gaze. "Sometimes movement happens because you stopped retreating."
At the bus stop the next morning, nothing looked different. Same bench. Same street. Same battered blue bus. But Juni sat taller.
Elian noticed.
The world hadn't changed completely. But it had shifted—just enough to make room for something new. And neither of them could pretend anymore that this was only their story.