By Monday morning, the festival felt like something that had happened in a dream. The lights were gone. The stalls dismantled. The courtyard returned to its usual gray. But the echoes lingered.
"Did you see Juni at the festival?"
"He looked… okay."
"I heard Elian stayed with him the whole time."
The rumors weren't sharp. They were uncertain. Juni heard them anyway.
Walking through the halls, Juni felt the familiar awareness—eyes tracking him, curiosity hovering just out of reach. Not everyone looked away. Not everyone stared. Most simply didn't know what to do with the new version of him.
Juni squared his shoulders. He kept walking.
At lunch, a girl from the art club stopped by their table. "We're putting together pieces for the spring showcase," she said. "If you want to submit something."
Juni blinked. "…Me?"
She nodded. "Your stuff's good."
Juni hesitated—then nodded back.
"Okay."
It felt like stepping into water that might be cold—but wasn't.
Later, in the hallway, the same boy who had once questioned Elian's closeness passed by.
He slowed. "…Hey," he said awkwardly. "Sorry about before."
Juni froze.
Elian glanced at him—but didn't speak.
Juni inhaled. "It's fine," he said quietly. "Just don't do it again."
The boy nodded, relief visible, and moved on. Juni's hands shook slightly afterward.
Elian noticed. "You did good," he said.
Juni nodded. "…It felt weird."
"That doesn't mean it was wrong."
That evening, Juni lay on his bed, scrolling through messages.Some supportive. Some awkward. Some silent.
He replied to a few. Ignored the rest. For the first time, he felt like that choice belonged to him.
At the bus stop the next morning, Juni arrived with his sketchbook under his arm.
Elian smiled. "Showcase prep?"
Juni nodded. "…I don't want to disappear again," he said. "But I don't want to explain everything either."
Elian met his gaze. "You don't have to."
Juni exhaled. "I know."
The festival hadn't fixed anything. But it had changed the shape of the world around him. The lights had gone out. But something stayed lit inside Juni.
Not courage. Not confidence.
Something quieter. Choice.