Chapter Text
CHAPTER 1
When Our Stars Aligned
The school gate stood tall and unfamiliar, glittering faintly under the morning sun as if it were polished just for today. Students buzzed around it like excited fireflies, chattering, laughing, running to beat the first bell.
Two girls stepped through the entrance at the same moment.
Darin, clutching the strap of her bag with nervous fingers, breathed in deeply and tried to steady her heart. Transferring schools halfway through the year wasn’t exactly her dream, but life didn’t always bend the way she hoped. Still—she smiled softly to herself—maybe this was a chance to start again. A clean slate.
And then there was Dao.
Eyes sharp, shoulders relaxed, and luggage that looked like it had been packed in a rush. She scanned the courtyard as if memorizing the layout in seconds. Calm on the outside, a quiet storm on the inside. Darin wasn’t new to starting over, but something about today tugged strangely at her chest. A feeling she couldn’t name.
A familiar voice echoed in the back of her mind—
“If only I had one more chance.”
She blinked it away.
They walked in from different directions, unaware of how perfectly their steps matched, the universe nudging them closer with every heartbeat.
Darin reached the announcement board first, rising on her toes to search for her new homeroom. At the same time, Dao stepped up beside her, eyes already landing on her name.
Their elbows brushed.
Darin startled. “Oh—sorry!”
Darin glanced down, expecting annoyance—but instead found warm, bright eyes blinking up at her like the morning star. For a second, Darin forgot how to breathe. Something inside her stirred. Recognition? Deja vu? A feeling like she’d dreamt this girl before.
Dao gave a shy smile. “You’re new too?”
“Yes,” Darin replied, voice quieter than she meant. “Transfer student.”
Dao’s smile grew. “Me too! I’m Dao.”
Darin hesitated only a moment. “Darin.”
As if the names themselves were magnets, the air between them shifted—light, gentle, almost shimmering.
Dao traced her name on the board. “Class 4/3… oh! You’re in the same class.”
Darin followed her finger. There, right beside Dao’s name, was her own. She felt her throat tighten with a strange, vivid rush of emotion—like relief, like déjà vu, like fate pulling a thread taut.
Dao tilted her head playfully. “Looks like we’re stuck together.”
Something warm flickered across Darin’s face.
“I… don’t mind.”
A group of students passed behind them, laughing loudly, breaking the stillness around the two girls. Dao stepped back and gestured toward the building.
“Shall we go?”
Darin nodded. “Lead the way.”
They walked side by side toward the classroom—two new students, two strangers, two stars beginning their slow orbit toward each other.
Darin didn’t know why her heart felt so heavy yet hopeful.
Dao didn’t know why the presence of this quiet girl felt strangely comforting.
Neither of them knew that this meeting…
was not their first.
But it was the beginning.
The moment when their stars aligned—
and fate began to turn once more.
Chapter Text
The moment Dao and Darin stepped into Class 4/3, the room split with whispers.
Dao didn’t react—she never needed to. She walked with calm, natural confidence, her posture straight, her expression relaxed. The sunlight from the windows caught the edges of her hair, making her look like she belonged on a school brochure.
Darin… did not blend so effortlessly.
She froze in the doorway, gripping her bag straps so tight her knuckles whitened. Her glasses slid down her nose, and she pushed them up with a trembling finger. The chatter around them only made her shrink further behind Dao’s shoulder.
“Who’s that girl? She’s pretty.”
“The one with glasses?”
“No, the other one—look at her.”
“She looks like a model…”
Dao heard the murmurs—she always did—but chose to ignore them. Instead, she glanced sideways at Darin.
The timid girl was staring at the floor as if it might swallow her whole.
Dao’s voice softened. “Come on.”
She didn’t touch her, but the gentle tone was enough to pull Darin’s feet into motion.
They walked to the front, stopping beside the teacher who was marking attendance. Without looking up, she said. “The new transfer students? Introduce yourselves, please. One at a time.”
Dao nodded politely and stepped forward first.
Immediately, the classroom fell silent.
“Hello. I’m Dao Siriphan,” she said, voice smooth and warm. “I transferred here today. Please take care of me.”
It was simple—but perfect. The kind of introduction that made girls admire her and boys sit up straighter.
A few students murmured, “She’s so cool,” and “She’s gorgeous.”
Then the teacher gestured to Darin.
“Next.”
Darin swallowed hard. Her heartbeat felt too loud, too heavy. She pushed her glasses up again, hands shaking so visibly she wanted to disappear.
“H-hello…” Her voice cracked.
Dao turned slightly, watching her with quiet curiosity.
“I-I’m… D-Darin S-Sirikul…”
She winced at her own stutter. “Um… nice to… m-meet you…”
A giggle rose from the back. Darin’s ears turned red.
The teacher, oblivious, marked the roster—then paused.
“Dao Siriphan and Darin Sirikul…”
The class perked up.
“They sound almost the same!”
“Dao and Darin?”
“That’s confusing.”
“Well,” the teacher said, “the only open seats are together. Dao, Darin—second row, near the window.”
Darin’s breath hitched.
Next to Dao? Every day?
She bit her lip, too flustered to move.
Dao stepped closer, leaning in just slightly—close enough for Darin to hear her whisper
“Let’s go.”
That was all it took.
She followed.
As they walked between desks, Darin felt dozens of eyes on them—mostly on Dao, but she felt exposed anyway. When they reached their seats, Dao sat with composed ease, sliding her bag under the desk.
Darin, on the other hand, nearly dropped hers.
Dao turned, watching her fumble with a small smile tugging at her lips—a smile that was neither mocking nor amused.
It was gentle.
Reassuring.
Like she was silently telling Darin
'You’re fine. Don’t worry.'
And as Darin finally managed to sit without tripping over her own feet, she dared to glance sideways.
Dao was already looking at her.
“Let’s get along, Darin,” she said softly.
Darin’s heart skipped a beat.
Her glasses fogged slightly.
“Y-yes… Dao.”
Their names—so similar that the class snickered again—sounded different when spoken between just the two of them.
Almost like they were meant to be said together.
Notes:
Hello! Ploy here! If you like this chapter and want to keep on reading please support me and my work. Although, this was technically gmmtv's OG series, I am going to change it to make it fit for my own liking (and hopefully for you guys.) especially to avoid copyright. To further explain, the main character's name's are supposedly the same but you guys wouldn't probably be able to differentiate which is which so I changed that to now, Dao and Darin. Dao means Star, whilst Darin means Little Star.
Again if you want to keep on reading this, please support me by liking and commenting. Thank you so much for support an amateur writer :)
Chapter 3: Let's Sit Together
Chapter Text
The classroom quieted just enough for Darin to hear her own shallow breaths.
Break time was supposed to feel relaxing, but all it did was remind her that she was new. Strange. Out of place.
And next to Dao — someone so beautiful, so composed — she felt even smaller than usual.
Students gathered in groups. Some approached Dao with shy smiles
“Dao, want to join us for lunch?”
“Dao, we can show you the cafeteria.”
“You’re sitting with us, right?”
Dao smiled politely each time, offering the same graceful answer “Not today. Maybe next time.”
Darin blinked.
Not today?
Why not today?
She was still fidgeting awkwardly with her lunchbox when Dao finally looked at her.
“Darin.”
Just her name — spoken softly, warmly — was enough to make Darin’s heart jump.
Dao tilted her head toward the door.
A silent invitation.
“Come with me?” she asked.
Darin froze. “M-me?”
Dao raised an eyebrow. “Do you see anyone else I’m talking to?”
Darin shook her head quickly. “N-no…”
“Then yes,” Dao said, voice gentle. “You.”
The hallway was busy. Dao moved through it like she belonged everywhere. Darin moved through it like she wanted to disappear. But what surprised Darin most was this. Dao slowed her pace. Just a little. Just enough for Darin to stay beside her. Not behind her. Not trailing awkwardly. Beside her.
Darin clutched her lunchbox tighter.
“Dao…?” she whispered.
“Hm?”
“You… don’t have to slow down for me…”
Dao looked at her, eyes soft.
“I know.”
Then she added, “I’m doing it anyway.”
Darin’s face burned pink.
They found a spot under the tree near the courtyard — quiet, shaded, away from the clusters of loud students. Dao settled gracefully, setting her lunch neatly on her lap.
Darin sat down, too, but almost toppled over the moment she bent her knees.
Dao reached out quickly, steadying Darin by gently holding her wrist.
“Careful,” Dao murmured.
Darin’s breath caught.
Her wrist tingled where Dao’s fingers had been.
“S-sorry…” Darin whispered.
“You say sorry too much,” Dao replied.
Darin looked down, embarrassed.
Dao gently nudged her shoulder with her own — the smallest touch, but enough to make Darin look up again.
“You don’t have to apologize for existing,” Dao said softly.
Darin stared.
Dao wasn’t teasing.
She wasn’t mocking.
She meant every word, and Darin felt it.
For a moment, Darin forgot how to breathe.
As they ate, a group of boys nearby whispered loudly
“Look at Dao — even eating she looks perfect.”
“Why is she with the nerdy transfer student though?”
“She could sit anywhere…”
Dao’s chopsticks paused.
She didn’t turn.
She didn’t glare.
She didn’t confront.
She simply leaned slightly closer to Darin — a small shift, almost invisible — but enough to send a message.
When the bell rang, Dao stood up smoothly and offered her hand to Darin — not dramatically, just naturally, like it was the obvious thing to do.
“Let’s go back,” Dao said.
Darin hesitated only a second before taking her hand.
Warm.
Steady.
Comforting.
Dao led her back to class. And Darin followed—just like she did that morning.
Chapter 4: And Then, Years Later…
Summary:
HUGE TIMESKIP (just like in the trailer)
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The world didn’t look the same when you were no longer a teenager.
The city lights were brighter, harsher. People hurried instead of strolled. Dreams weren’t things you wrote inside notebooks; they were things you fought for when the world tried to take them from you. And somewhere between the noise of the adult world and the silent ache of ambition, two girls who once sat together under a school courtyard tree… simply drifted apart.
No fight.
No big moment.
Life just pulled them in separate directions.
Dao Siriphan became a name people said with awe.
Darin Sirikul became a name people did not yet know how to pronounce.
But fate had its own kind of patience.
It circled back eventually.
Always.
Dao was used to the flashes by now. The cameras. The lights. The hands reaching out, the microphones shoved toward her, the bright smiles that dimmed the second she looked away. She stood on the red carpet of a glitzy film festival, wearing a silver gown that hugged her waist and shimmered like water. Her hair was tied in a sleek ponytail; her expression poised, unreadable to anyone but the most observant.
The public adored her.
The industry praised her.
Her boyfriend… Her boyfriend liked having her on a leash.
A firm grip closed around her wrist—an elegant hand disguised in a suit sleeve. Tight enough that she felt the pressure through her skin. Tight enough that she knew a bruise would bloom later.
“Smile,” he whispered against her ear. His voice was velvet-soft. His fingers were iron.
Dao unclenched her jaw and smiled on command as cameras clicked.
The perfect couple. The perfect red-carpet shot.
Nobody noticed how Dao’s hand trembled once his grip finally loosened. Nobody ever did. When the lights dimmed and the interviews ended, Dao sat in the back of the luxury car, staring out the tinted window while her boyfriend scrolled carelessly on his phone.
He didn’t look at her.
He didn’t need to.
He owned her—or believed he did.
“Your next project,” he said, without lifting his eyes, “make sure it’s something high-profile. No indie nonsense.”
Dao said nothing. Silence was safer.
Her manager texted her then.
"New script offer came in. Drama series. Prestige level. Big potential. Writer: Darin Sirikul."
Dao blinked.
Darin?
As in…
Darin with the glasses?
Darin who tripped over air?
Darin who apologized for breathing?
A small memory flickered—sunlight under a tree, the soft clink of chopsticks, a shy girl clutching a lunchbox too tightly.
Dao didn’t smile, not visibly. But something inside her softened, unexpectedly.
She texted back.
"I’ll take it. No need to read the script first."
Her manager responded instantly.
"Are you sure? It’s a newcomer writer..."
Dao replied. "Yes. I said I'll take it." She locked her phone before her boyfriend could look over.
Something was pulling her toward this project. Toward her. Even if Dao couldn’t explain why.
Darin Sirikul still wore glasses. She still pushed them up her nose when nervous. Still held her pen between her teeth when thinking. Still tripped over absolutely nothing at least twice a week. But she wasn’t the same shy girl anymore.
Her name was slowly making rounds in writing rooms across Bangkok. A rising scriptwriter with a sensitive, heartfelt style. Someone who wrote characters with quiet pain and quiet love. People said she had a rare kind of emotional depth. They didn’t know she learned that depth from real life. From growing up. From loneliness. From nights spent staring at old notebooks wondering where certain people from her past had gone.
Sometimes, on slower days, Darin wondered if Dao ever remembered her at all.
Probably not.
Dao was a star now. People like her didn’t remember awkward girls who spilled soup on themselves.
Still…
Sometimes Darin found herself writing characters that reminded her of Dao. Soft but strong. Gentle but radiant. Someone who drew others in without trying.
When her producer told her which actress accepted the role of the drama’s protagonist, Darin nearly dropped her iced coffee.
“D-Dao Siriphan!?” she squeaked. “THE Dao Siriphan!?”
“Yes,” the producer said, amused. “She accepted immediately. Actually, before even reading the script.”
Darin’s brain short-circuited.
Why would someone like Dao accept a script from… well… her?
A nerd.
A stuttering, barely-known writer.
A nobody.
It made no sense.
Unless Dao didn’t remember her at all.
Which was far more likely.
The thought stung a little.
But Darin quickly buried it under excitement and anxiety.
They booked a large, glass-walled studio conference room for the first official script table read. Dozens of cast members and staff filled the space. Producers. Managers. Assistants. Actors flipping through scripts, chatting, laughing.
Darin stood near the corner, hugging her binder like a life raft. She tried to look professional, but every few seconds her glasses slid down and she pushed them back up.
“Writer Darin!” someone called. “Are you ready? The lead actress should be arriving—”
The door opened.
Dao stepped in.
Beautiful.
Graceful.
Almost unreal.
Her hair was styled in soft waves. She wore a simple white blouse, light makeup, minimal jewelry. There was a calmness to her, but something tired, too—something hollow beneath the surface.
The room seemed to shift around her. People stared. Whispered. Straightened their posture.
Darin froze.
She had seen Dao on screens, in interviews and even on magazine covers. But seeing her here, in person… It wasn’t the same.
Dao looked older. Sharper around the edges. More polished, more poised. And yet, somehow—still the same girl who slowed her steps in a school hallway so Darin wouldn’t fall behind.
Dao’s eyes swept across the room.
And then they landed on her.
For a moment, something flickered in Dao’s gaze. Recognition? Surprise? Warmth? It was subtle. Barely there. But Darin felt it.
Dao walked toward the table, set her script down, and took her seat.
The director began welcoming everyone. Darin tried to focus, but her heartbeat was so loud she barely heard anything. Then—
“Writer.”
Darin turned.
Dao was standing next to her.
Oh god oh god oh god—
She was talking to her.
Up close, Dao was even more stunning. Her eyes softer than Darin remembered. Her voice lower, gentler.
“It’s been a long time,” Dao said quietly.
Darin’s brain did not boot properly.
“Y-You remember me!?”
Dao tilted her head slightly. “Of course.”
Of course.
Dao said it like it was obvious, like there was no universe where she wouldn’t remember.
Darin felt her ears heat up. “I… I didn’t think you would,” she admitted.
Dao lowered her eyes slightly. A tiny smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “You haven’t changed,” she murmured.
Darin wanted to sink into the floor.
Dao continued, voice soft enough only Darin could hear. “You still push your glasses up like that.”
Darin immediately pushed them again in panic. Which made Dao quietly laugh. A soft, breathy sound. A sound Darin recognized instantly from high school. But before Darin could respond, Dao’s manager called her name, and she stepped away.
Darin pressed a hand to her chest.
Her heart was doing gymnastics.
This was… not how she imagined their reunion.
Not even close.
The table read began. Actors performed lines aloud.
Darin took notes.
Dao delivered her character’s emotional monologue so flawlessly that the entire room fell silent. She was captivating. She was brilliant. She was everything Darin knew she would become. But Darin noticed something the others didn’t.
Every time Dao’s phone buzzed, her shoulders tensed. Every time her manager whispered in her ear, Dao’s expression dimmed. Whenever the conversation drifted toward “her boyfriend,” Dao became quiet—too quiet, too careful.
And once…
Just once…
Darin saw Dao wince when she reached into her bag, like something hurt beneath her sleeve.
Bruised?
No...
No, Darin must be imagining things.
Dao Siriphan? Being hurt?
Impossible.
The idea made Darin feel uneasy anyway.
After the table read ended, the team began packing up. The director congratulated the cast, the staff buzzed around with schedules and call sheets, and everyone seemed in high spirits.
Except Dao.
She looked… distant. Like her mind was somewhere else entirely.
Darin hesitated, then walked toward her.
“Dao?”
Dao turned, and for a split second—before she put her mask back on—Darin saw exhaustion in her eyes. Not physical. Emotional.
“Are you okay?” Darin asked softly.
Dao’s lips curved into a polite, manufactured smile. “I’m fine.” She lied smoothly. Effortlessly.
She’d had practice.
Dao’s manager stepped out to take a call. The rest of the cast was still chatting by the door. For a moment, Dao and Darin stood alone in the quiet conference room. Dao looked at Darin again. Really looked.
“You’ve grown,” she said softly.
Darin blinked. “Me?”
“You,” Dao repeated. “There’s a different kind of confidence now.”
Darin laughed awkwardly. “I still trip on flat surfaces.”
Dao’s lips twitched. “Some things don’t change.”
Silence fell between them — not uncomfortable, but strangely intimate.
Dao’s eyes softened. “I’m glad it’s you,” she whispered.
Darin’s breath caught. “H-huh?”
Dao took a small step closer. “I’m glad this project… leads me back to you.”
The words were quiet, almost fragile. As if Dao didn’t fully understand why she said them. Darin, completely clueless, scratched her cheek nervously. “I’m… really happy to work with you too. You’re amazing, Dao. Really.”
Dao looked away— not shy, but almost… guilty.
“Darin.” Her voice was gentle. “I may not… be exactly who you remember.”
Darin frowned. “What do you mean?”
Dao hesitated.
Her fingers curled slightly at her side, as if recoiling from something invisible. But then—
The door burst open.
“Dao! We’re late,” her manager called in. Dao immediately straightened. The warmth vanished. Her actress mask slipped back on, perfect and flawless.
She nodded politely at Darin. “We’ll talk again soon.” And just like that, she was gone.
Darin watched her walk away, something inside her twisted uncomfortably. She didn’t know what or why. But something was wrong with Dao.
Very, very wrong.
Dao stepped into her boyfriend’s car. He didn’t greet her. Didn’t even smile. Instead, he grabbed her chin sharply. “You’re late.”
Dao didn’t flinch. She’d learned not to.
“I had a meeting,” she said calmly.
His grip tightened. His eyes darkened. “Don’t test me, Dao.”
She said nothing.
Silence was safer.
He released her abruptly, leaning back in his seat with a sigh. “Good job today. The media loves us. Keep it that way.”
Dao nodded, staring out the window as the car pulled away.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from the drama’s group chat — cast updates, schedules. And another one, this time, from Darin.
Writer Darin:
“It was really nice seeing you again today.”
Dao read the message in silence.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
For a moment, she imagined replying with something honest.
It was nice for me too. You were the only calm part of my day. I’m scared and I don’t know how to leave him.
Instead, she typed. "Likewise."
Her boyfriend glanced over.
“Work message?”
“Yes.”
He hummed. “Good.”
Dao locked her phone quietly.
Outside, the city lights blurred past. But somewhere inside her chest — a small, fragile warmth flickered. A warmth she hadn’t felt in a long time.
A warmth named Darin.
Notes:
Petition for Dao's boyfriend to rot in hell. Anyway, I hope you guys will still continue to support me and this story. Thank you and enjoy!
Chapter 5: The Shooting Star
Chapter Text
The office was quiet, almost unnaturally so. Only the faint hum of the air conditioner broke the silence, blending with the low murmur of the city outside. Darin had stayed late, as she often did, her desk littered with papers, marked-up scripts, and half-drunk cups of coffee. Her pen tapped lightly against a page as she reviewed dialogue, pacing, and character arcs.
A sudden knock made Darin start. She glanced up, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.
“Darin?”
It was her boss, Mr. Phuwasit. His expression was tight, almost pale, unlike the confident, controlled man she usually saw.
“Yes…?” she said cautiously.
“I… I’m sorry to disturb you,” he said, stepping inside without waiting for her to invite him. He closed the door behind him, his shoulders tense. “But… there’s something I need to tell you. It’s… bad news.”
Darin’s stomach clenched. Bad news? She hadn’t expected anything, yet the words made her pulse race.
He pulled out his phone and placed it gently on her desk. The screen displayed a headline that made her stomach drop.
Breaking News: Rising Actress Dao Siriphan Found Dead. Police Investigating Suspicious Circumstances; Boyfriend Suspected.
Her eyes locked onto Dao’s face in the photographs. The flawless smile, the glossy magazine covers, the red-carpet poses—alive moments captured forever, yet now overshadowed by those two specific words. Found Dead.
“No… no, this can’t be…” Darin whispered, her fingers trembling as they hovered above the phone.
Her boss sighed, a deep, weighty sound. “I know, Darin. I know it’s… it’s hard to process. She was only twenty-four. So young… and such talent.” He swallowed, his voice thick. “And… that boyfriend. That—jerk. He ruined her life. And now…” He shook his head. “Now she’s gone.”
Darin’s chest tightened, a painful, sharp sensation that stole her breath. She pressed her hand to her lips, staring at the screen as if it could somehow show her a different reality.
“How… how did this happen?” she managed to whisper.
“I don’t know all the details yet,” her boss said softly. “But the police are investigating. It looks like… he—” He paused, clearly at a loss for words. “It’s all wrong. She didn’t deserve this. None of it. She was brilliant… promising… alive. And he took that from her.”
Darin’s knees felt weak. She sank into her chair, holding her head in her hands. The office faded around her. The clock ticked loudly, but it felt slow, oppressive, each second hammering the tragic truth into her chest.
Dao…
The girl who had slowed her steps in the crowded high school hallway. The one who had steadied her trembling wrist under the tree at lunch. The one who had made her heart race without even knowing it.
Dead.
Her vision blurred, tears threatening to spill. Every memory of Dao came crashing back, each one more vivid than the last. And now… none of it mattered.
Darin’s mind replayed every interaction from the past, every subtle warning she had ignored. The little winces, the tense shoulders, the faint, almost invisible flinches—Dao’s future pain had been there, clear to anyone paying attention, but Darin hadn’t acted.
If only she had been faster. If only she had realized sooner. If only she had…
Her chest heaved with guilt. The room felt smaller, her breathing heavier. She pressed her face into her hands, sobbing silently.
Her fingers shook as she scrolled through the media coverage social media posts, fan tributes, news articles. People called Dao brilliant, talented, stunning… and every comment, every post, drove the guilt deeper into Darin’s chest.
“She… she didn’t deserve this,” Darin whispered, her voice breaking. “I should have… I could have…”
Her boss’s words echoed in her mind. “So young… ruined by her boyfriend.”
The “what ifs” twisted and turned inside her. What if she had intervened? What if she had warned her? What if she had been brave enough to step forward, even subtly?
The weight of failure pressed down, suffocating, crushing.
Hours later, Darin left the office, her body moving but her mind elsewhere. The city at night seemed quieter, softer, almost eerily calm compared to the storm raging inside her. Streetlights flickered over empty sidewalks, casting elongated shadows. A stray cat hissed in the distance. The wind rustled through nearby trees.
And then… she looked up.
A shooting star streaked across the sky, brilliant, sudden, impossible.
Her breath caught. Her heart thundered.
“I… I wish I could fix this,” she whispered, voice raw. “I wish I could save you. I wish I could take it all back.”
The star flared brighter, illuminating the night like a beacon. Darin’s chest felt tight, her hands trembling. She pressed her fingers against her eyes to steady herself, but the star’s light didn’t fade—it grew, pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat.
A gust of wind circled her. The city lights dimmed, then swirled around her. Everything felt like it was bending, folding, twisting. The air pressed against her chest, and the world tilted, colors bleeding and merging.
And then—everything went white.
When she opened her eyes, the first thing she noticed was the smell—books, chalk, faint dust, sunlight. Her body ached as if she had been stretched and pulled, yet she was intact.
Her gaze lifted.
Class 4/3.
The familiar classroom. The chatter of students moving between desks, the rustle of papers. The sunlight streaming through tall windows, highlighting dust motes floating lazily in the air.
Her heart stuttered.
She saw them all—the same desks, the same classroom layout, the same quiet sense of high school. And there, adjusting her glasses nervously, was Dao.
Alive. Unaware. Oblivious.
Darin’s chest constricted, a mixture of relief and fresh guilt washing over her. Dao had no memory of the fame, no toxic boyfriend, no death. Darin had all the memory.
She pressed her hands to her chest, trying to calm her racing heartbeat. Every flashback from the future screamed at her: the bruises, the subtle flinches, the fear she could now prevent.
She would save her.
No toxic boyfriend. No hidden bruises. No tragedy. Not this time.
The bell rang, and students began to settle into their seats. Darin leaned against the back wall, quietly observing.
Dao sat with perfect composure, adjusting her bag neatly under her desk. The same serene smile. The same precise movements. Everything as she had remembered it—alive, oblivious, beautiful.
She would not force anything. She would not rush. Subtlety was her weapon now. She could guide, protect, and influence without scaring her.
If Dao began noticing her more, she would let it happen naturally. If Dao began to trust her presence, she would be there for her.
But first, she had to keep her safe.
Recess arrived. Darin found the quiet courtyard under the large tree, the same place they had shared lunches long ago. She settled on a bench, watching Dao with a careful eye.
Dao’s eyes flicked up occasionally, scanning her surroundings. At one point, they met Darin’s gaze for just a fraction of a second. Darin’s chest ached. Her heart wanted to leap forward, to run to her, to warn her, to hold her. But she did not. Not yet.
“Not this time. Not ever,” she whispered to herself.
Dao returned to her lunch, serene. A faint sense of safety seemed to emanate from Darin’s presence. The connection, subtle and fragile, had begun again.
Darin allowed herself a small, quiet smile. This was the beginning—the first step toward rewriting a life that had been stolen too soon.
And she would not fail.
Chapter Text
The world felt both too loud and too quiet at once.
After the blur of white light, after the dizzying pull backward through time, after the jolt of returning to a body that felt both familiar and foreign—Darin had somehow made it through the rest of the school morning without collapsing.
Barely.
Her heart hadn’t stopped racing since the moment she realized exactly where she was—and who was alive again.
Dao.
The name pulsed like a heartbeat against her ribs. Dao existing without fear, without bruises, without the weight of fame or violence or tragedy perched on her shoulders.
Dao, alive. Alive in a way Darin had only seen through memories and screens and a morgue sheet. Seeing her now—breathing, moving, unaware—was like having her lungs punched open and crushed closed at the same time. Every minute of class was torture. Not because she disliked the subjects. But because Dao was right there. It doesn't mean she didn't like the idea that she's seeing Dao again, it was just, unbelievable.
Dao was just there, right there across the room. Right there smiling softly at the teacher’s questions. Right there brushing hair behind her ear in that familiar absentminded motion. Right there quietly reading, pencil tapping lightly against her notebook.
Darin forced herself not to stare. Not to let her breath hitch too visibly. Not to crumble into tears from relief. But she caught herself turning again and again. Just to check. Just to make sure she was still alive and that she wasn't going crazy from this whole thing.
By the time recess ended, Darin felt like someone had squeezed her chest for an hour straight.
And then—
The bell rang for lunch.
Her legs moved on instinct, carrying her out of the classroom before she could even gather her thoughts. She needed air. She needed quiet. She needed a second to understand how she was supposed to exist in a world where Dao Siriphan was alive again.
She found herself in the same school restroom she used to escape to whenever she felt overwhelmed—though back then, it had been because speaking to classmates made her nervous. Now it was because seeing Dao alive made her entire world feel unreal. She locked the stall door behind her, leaned back against the cool metal and exhaled shakily.
Her pulse still hadn’t slowed. Her hands trembled as she reached for the sink, gripping the edge tightly. The mirror in front of her reflected a girl who looked… like her, but not quite her.
She was older inside than the face staring back. Her eyes carried years her classmates couldn’t see. Her expression was deeper, steadier, quieter. Her presence—still awkward, still soft—held a strange strength it never had before.
She was still Darin. Still the glasses-wearing, shy, awkward, introverted girl but she wasn’t the same one who once walked these halls. And now—she had traveled back.
Her breath hitched as she leaned in closer to the mirror. Her reflection stared back, wide-eyed and fragile but also determined, something fierce beginning to build beneath the surface.
Her voice came out as a whisper, soft and trembling “If only back then… I was brave enough.” The words scraped raw against her throat. She pressed her fingers to the cool glass. “We would’ve stayed friends. I would’ve been there for you.” A breath. A shake of her shoulders. The sting of tears she refused to let fall. “I would’ve helped you avoid him… helped you find someone who actually deserved your heart.” Her reflection blurred as moisture gathered in her eyes.
All those images she saw of Dao's news flashed back.
“Time-travel stories always say the same thing… the main character goes back to change the future.” Her hands slowly curled into fists on the counter. “But for me to change yours, Dao… I have to change myself first.” The words left her like a vow. A promise. A declaration reshaping her entire soul.
No more timid. No more frozen. No more too scared, too late, too silent. She was here to save Dao. Whatever it cost her.
A knock startled her.
“Is someone inside?” a student asked.
Darin inhaled sharply and steadied herself. “I-I’ll be out soon!” she called back, voice wobbly.
She splashed cool water on her face, took one more grounding breath, and stepped out. The hallway buzzed with energy—students moving in clusters, chatter echoing, the scent of cafeteria food wafting through the air.
Her eyes scanned automatically. Looking for her and there near the courtyard entrance Dao stood holding her lunchbox, listening politely as two girls tried to pull her into their group.
“Dao, come with us to the library! We want to introduce you to—”
“You should sit with our section! We saved a seat just in case—”
Dao smiled, serene but slightly cornered. “I appreciate it,” she said softly, “but I already have plans.”
The girls blinked in surprise.
“Really? With who?”
Dao’s eyes drifted across the hallway landing right exactly on Darin like the perfect timing.
Darin felt the moment like a physical hit—her breath stopping, her palms suddenly damp. Dao’s gaze lingered for half a second longer than necessary, something warm and unreadable flickering behind her expression.
Then she spoke.
“Her.”
The two girls turned to follow her gaze. Darin stiffened, feeling the full weight of attention on her even from across the corridor.
Dao dipped her head politely to the girls. “Thank you for inviting me,” she said gently, “but I’ll sit with her today.” And she walked toward Darin. Every step felt unreal. Darin’s body tensed on instinct—the same shyness she’d always carried rising up like a reflex. But she stood still, frozen between two timelines, her heart battling disbelief and something deeper.
Dao stopped in front of her. Up close, her presence felt exactly the same—calm, warm, natural. As if she brought a small sun with her.
“Hi,” Dao said softly.
Darin swallowed. “H-hi…”
Dao tilted her head slightly, studying her with quiet curiosity. “Are you… eating alone?”
Darin nodded. “Y-yeah…”
“Can I join you?” The corner of Dao’s lips lifted, barely there but warm enough to melt something inside Darin she hadn’t realized was frozen.
Darin blinked. “You… want to?”
Dao’s expression softened even more. “I said I had plans, didn’t I?”
If she still remembers perfectly, this was how it started the first time. Dao choosing her. Dao making space for her. Dao pulling her into her orbit gently, patiently. Dao showing her what warmth felt like. But this time—Darin knew exactly what that warmth had cost.
She nodded quickly, too quickly. “Y-yes! Of course!”
Dao’s smile widened by a millimeter—subtle, quiet, but genuine. “Let’s go then.”
Darin’s heart thudded louder.
Dao stepped beside her, walking at a pace that matched hers perfectly—slow enough, gentle enough, thoughtful enough that Darin felt a knot form in her throat.
As they walked toward the courtyard, Darin felt the weight of the future settle heavily over her. She kept her gaze low, her thoughts spiraling.
She couldn’t let it happen again. She couldn’t let Dao choose the wrong person. She couldn’t let Dao’s story end the same way. No way in hell would she let it slip away again, even after given the chance to prevent Dao's tragic end happening. She would protect her even if it meant changing everything about herself.
When they reached the tree, Dao stepped ahead and turned to her with the smallest, softest smile.
“Let’s get along, Darin,” she said.
The same line.
The same voice.
The same moment.
But this time—Darin wouldn’t run. Wouldn’t be too afraid to stay by her side.
This was the beginning. Again. All over. A fresh new beginning, just not for Dao, but also for herself. This time—Darin was going to rewrite everything.
The bell rang for recess, scattering students into the halls, and Darin took a deep breath, steadying herself. She hadn’t moved from her seat at the back yet—her eyes were glued to Dao, who was sitting with a small group of classmates near the front of the classroom. Dao’s posture was graceful, the same calm, composed way Darin had remembered, yet there was something softer about her now, unshaped by fame, by tragedy, by heartbreak.
Darin pressed her hands to her desk, fingers curling lightly, gripping the edge as if it could anchor her to the present. She was here. Alive. This was the past, before everything went wrong. But she had to be careful. She couldn’t make any mistakes.
Dao was laughing at something someone said—a quiet laugh, genuine and small—and Darin felt her chest ache. Every memory of the future, every moment she had witnessed where Dao suffered, pressed against her ribcage like a weight.
The classroom began to empty, and Dao stood, gathering her bag and notebooks.
Darin took a deep breath and followed, staying a few steps behind. She wasn’t “following,” not really. She was observing. Quietly. Carefully.
Dao exited into the hallway, where sunlight streamed through the tall windows. The floor gleamed, and dust floated lazily in the air, catching in the light. The hallway was full of students, noisy, chaotic—but Darin’s focus was only on her.
Dao paused near her locker, frowning slightly as she struggled with the lock. Her hands shook just a little, a familiar sign that Darin had memorized years ago. Without thinking, she stepped closer.
“Do you want some help?” Darin asked softly, trying to keep her voice casual, like an offer from a classmate rather than someone who had watched her life unravel in the future.
Dao looked up, surprised. “Oh… uh, yes, thank you,” she said, her voice quiet but warm.
"Let me see your combination code again" Darin replied.
Dao handed her the locker's combination, Darin leaned closer, guiding the combination lock with gentle fingers. The moment their hands touched, a flash of warmth surged through Darin. She had to keep herself grounded. This was normal, casual, nothing more than helping a friend.
The lock clicked open, and Dao gave her a small smile. “Thanks. I sometimes get this wrong.”
“You’re welcome,” Darin said softly. She smiled, careful, almost imperceptibly. “It happens to everyone.”
Dao nodded, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She looked back at Darin briefly, warmth flickering in her gaze. It was subtle, almost like recognition of a kindness—but Darin knew better. In this timeline, Dao didn’t yet know the depth of what Darin had felt, or what she would do to keep her safe.
When class ended for the day, Darin followed Dao outside, keeping a careful distance. She watched as Dao walked toward the courtyard, carrying her books neatly against her chest. Dao’s presence seemed to soften the noise around her—the sunlight glinting on her hair, the gentle sway of her steps, the small way she smiled at a classmate who waved hello.
Darin approached the bench under the large tree—the same one where they had eaten lunch in the first timeline—but kept a few steps behind. She had to be cautious. She couldn’t force herself into Dao’s life too suddenly.
Dao noticed her, though. Her gaze flicked toward Darin, just for a moment. A fraction of a second—but it was enough. Warmth bloomed in that fleeting connection, subtle and fragile, but enough to anchor Darin.
She remembered the thought she had whispered to herself in the mirror earlier
If only back then… I was brave enough. We would’ve stayed friends. I would’ve been there for you. I would’ve helped you avoid him… helped you find someone who actually deserved your heart.
The memory of those words gave her courage.
Darin waited until Dao sat down on the bench, placing her books carefully on her lap. The air was filled with distant laughter and the scent of grass and sun, but in this small corner, it felt quiet, protected.
“Do you… mind if I sit here?” Darin asked, voice steady but soft.
Dao looked up, slightly surprised, then smiled faintly. “No, go ahead,” she said, gesturing to the space beside her.
Darin settled carefully, placing her backpack beside her. She didn’t lean too close. She didn’t touch her. Not yet. But she made herself present, a quiet presence, steady, calm—an anchor Dao could unconsciously rely on.
Dao glanced at her briefly, the faintest flicker of curiosity in her expression. “You… you like to sit alone?” she asked, tilting her head.
“Sometimes,” Darin said softly, “but… I thought maybe today… it could be different.”
Dao’s lips quirked up, a small smile that made Darin’s chest ache in the right, painful way. “Different is good,” she said, quietly.
That warmth—the one she didn’t yet understand—was exactly what Darin wanted to nurture. She didn’t push. She didn’t demand. She simply allowed herself to exist in that space, steady, kind, protective.
For the first time in years, she felt like she could breathe again.
The minutes passed with quiet conversation. Dao spoke softly about homework, about a book she had read, about a class project. Darin listened, interjecting occasionally, carefully, making sure not to dominate.
Every time their hands brushed—when passing a pencil or adjusting a notebook—it felt electric. Not romantic yet, not even fully understood, but significant.
Dao laughed softly at a joke Darin had made—a small sound, but it made Darin’s chest happy. This was it, she couldn't remember when was the last time she heard Dao laughing. This was the beginning of the new timeline.
Later, as the sun dipped low and the sky turned shades of orange and pink, Darin lingered under the tree alone for a moment. She looked at her reflection in the window of the school building—older, steadier, more aware.
She pressed her hands together and drew a slow, steady breath. This was her mission. Just Dao—alive, happy, and safe. And for the first time since traveling back, Darin felt like she could actually believe it might be possible.
Notes:
dao and darin meet again, so happy for these two. i hope u guys are enjoying this, please leave a comment to tell me what ur opinion is with this chapter. :)
Chapter 7: Small Steps, Bigger Changes
Notes:
honestly, y'all i have so much chapters out in my draft notes rn. i've been making this every day. i am that obsessed with PahnFond it is sickening. i need wish upon a star to come out now. leave me some feedbacks guys. anything really, i dont mind. i just enjoy reading some comments
Chapter Text
The morning sun filtered through the classroom windows with a gentle gold, casting warm stripes across the desks and floor. It was one of those unusually soft days — the kind where the air didn’t feel too heavy, where students chatted lightly instead of shouting across the campus, where time moved just a little slower.
And for Darin, it was the first morning since her return to the past where she didn’t wake up feeling like her ribs were full of electricity and panic.
Today felt… manageable.
Not normal. Never normal. But manageable.
She walked into school clutching her backpack straps, inhaling deeply. Her heart still beat a little too fast — the hallway was bustling, and she had never been good with crowded spaces — but she didn’t immediately retreat into a corner like she once would have.
She scanned the hallway automatically. She didn’t mean to look for her. She wasn’t obsessed. She was simply making sure things were okay.
Right?
Still, her eyes found Dao almost instantly.
The girl stood near the windows, sunlight behind her making her hair glow in that quiet halo-like way. She was arranging her notebooks, talking to two classmates who were way too excited about something judging by their hand gestures.
Darin felt her chest warm — not painfully, not achingly — just warm. Dao caught sight of her. Just a glance. Just a quick second. But the smile that flickered over Dao’s lips — small, soft, familiar — was enough to send Darin’s stomach flipping.
Darin quickly looked down, pretending to fix the strap on her bag. Calm. Calm. Calm. She had promised herself today would not be a day of dramatic emotions or spiraling thoughts.
Today would be about small steps. Little changes. Braver choices. As what she calls it herself, one step at a time.
She made her legs move toward her seat. One step, two steps—
“Darin!” Dao’s voice carried gently across the room.
Darin froze mid-step.
Did Dao just… call out to her? In front of people? Casually? Like it was nothing?
Dao approached her with the same soft calmness she always carried, hugging her notebook to her chest.
“Good morning,” Dao said, smiling. “Did you have lunch already packed?”
“H-huh?” Darin blinked. “Um, I… yeah. I mean—no? Was I suppose to bring something? I mean I brought something—probably… I don’t know.” Her words tangled themselves like shoelaces.
Dao giggled.
Darin’s brain short-circuited.
“Sorry,” Dao said “That was a confusing question. I was just… wondering if you wanted to eat together again later.”
Again?
Why would Dao want to join her for lunch. Dao wanted to eat with her again.
Darin’s thoughts scattered like confetti in a storm.
She nodded a little too quickly. “S-sure. Yes. Yes, please. I mean yes, I wanted to ask you first you beat me to it,” She awkwardly laughed.
Dao’s eyes warmed, softening with something like amusement but also fondness. “Okay,” she said gently. “I’ll look for you then.” She returned to her group, but she looked back — not once, but twice — as if making sure Darin was still there.
Darin crushed her face into her palms.
After homeroom, the loudspeaker crackled to life.
“Good morning students! Today will be: CLUB EXPOSITION DAY. All classes will end at 1 PM to allow everyone to explore clubs and organizations. First-year students are required to join at least one.”
The classroom immediately buzzed with noise — excitement, groans, clapping, chaos.
"Do we really have to?"
"Dao! What club are you joining?"
"What clubs are we joining?"
Darin blinked. There was a lot of things happening, she could've sworn she's at the edge of overstimulation with how chaotic it is right now.
Club Day.
She remembered this happening. In the original timeline, she wasn’t brave enough to join anything. She went home early, too nervous to talk to anyone. She spent the entire year clubless, which only deepened her isolation.
But this time… she has another chance to change that. To be less of a background character in her own life. Her palms grew sweaty. What club could she join without dying of anxiety?
Before she could spiral too hard, the teacher clapped for attention. “Everyone, start thinking about which club you’ll visit. Remember, explore! Meet people! Try new things!”
Darin nearly snorted. Try new things was exactly the hardest part.
She began listing options in her head.
Art Club?
She literally draws V indicating it as a bird.
Science Club?
Sounds like explosions waiting to happen.
Dance Club?
Absolutely not. She wasn’t suicidal.
Music Club?
She could play nothing except a Spotify playlist.
Drama Club?
Oh God, hell no. Why was this even a question.
Book Club?
Too quiet. Somehow ironically intimidating.
Media & Film Club?
…
…
Wait.
Wait.
Her fingers froze around her pencil.
Media & Film.
In the future, she would write scripts. In the future, Dao would act. In the future, their worlds intertwined because of stories and screens and scenes.
This wasn’t the future but maybe this was the seed of it. Maybe she could join. Maybe she could start being part of something instead of being a silent observer. Maybe—
“Darin?” Dao leaned toward her, eyes shining with curiosity. “Do you know which club you want to join?”
Darin squeaked.
“A-ah, I’m… still thinking.”
Dao nodded thoughtfully. “Me too. I was thinking maybe something calm? Or something creative?”
By mid-morning break, Darin managed her first “small change.”
Instead of staying in her seat and pretending to be invisible, she asked a classmate if she could borrow a pen.
A pen.
Just a pen.
“T-thank you,” she managed when the girl passed her one.
The girl smiled politely. “No problem.”
Dao glanced over at them. A tiny flicker of something passed over her eyes — a mix of curiosity and… approval?
Darin quickly sat down before her knees buckled.
Okay. Step One: Survive social interaction. Checked.
Dao walked over later with a gentle smile. “You seem more talkative today,” she said softly.
Darin wanted to hide under her desk.
“N-not really. I just… tried.”
Dao’s smile grew, warm as sunlight. “Trying is good,” she said.
Dao gave a gentle smile.
By 1 PM, the classrooms emptied out and the campus transformed.
Tables set up around the courtyard. Banners, flyers, posters, and students waving signs like excitable salespeople.
“Join the Science Club!”
“Photography Club here!”
“Want to act? Drama Club auditions open!”
“Chess Club sign-ups!”
“Media & Film: Scriptwriting, filming, editing, acting—everyone welcome!”
That last one made Darin’s pulse spike. Her feet rooted in place. She wanted to go there but every time she tried to step forward, her body hesitated.
“Nervous?”
Dao was beside her. At some point she had drifted quietly to Darin’s side, her presence gentle and grounding.
“A little,” Darin admitted.
Dao looked around, thoughtful. “There are so many options. But for some reason…” She pointed to the booth with a camera stand and a laptop playing short clips. “…that one keeps catching my eye.”
The Media & Film Club booth.
Darin swallowed.
Dao saw this, “You want to go?” Dao asked softly.
Darin’s mouth moved on its own.
“Y-yes.”
Dao smiled.
“Then let’s go together.”
Dao walked beside her — not in front, not behind — but perfectly at her pace. Just like before. Just like always.
At the booth, a friendly senior greeted them.
“Hey! Interested in joining Media & Film? We do photo shoots, short films, editing workshops, scriptwriting sessions, everything!”
Dao brightened. “It looks fun.”
Darin nodded shyly. “W-what do beginners do?”
“Anything they want,” the senior said. “We let each member explore roles. You can try scriptwriting, filming, acting—whatever you’re comfortable with.”
Darin’s eyes widened.
“Scriptwriting?”
The senior grinned. “Yeah! You like writing?”
Dao turned to her so fast. “You write?” Dao asked, eyes wide.
Darin froze.
“I—I mean… I write sometimes… little things… nothing big—”
Dao leaned closer, excitement sparkling in her eyes. “I didn’t know that.” Her voice softened into something almost proud. “That’s really cool, Darin.” Then Dao faced the senior. “Is it okay if we sign up together?”
The senior beamed. “Absolutely! We love pairs. It helps people stay motivated.”
Dao handed Darin a pen.
“Let’s join.”
Her voice was simple. Soft. Warm. But it carried weight.
Darin signed her name before she could chicken out.
Dao signed after her.
It felt symbolic.
Like writing the first line of a new story.
“Before you girls go,” the senior said, “we have a simple activity today for new members!”
Uh oh.
Darin stiffened.
“Don’t worry,” the senior laughed. “It’s nothing scary. It's just a tradition every time someone joins our club. You’ll be paired with someone to take a short 10-second video clip of them doing anything. Literally anything. It’s just to test your instincts.”
Dao’s eyes sparkled. “That sounds cute.”
"It hasn't even been an hour and there's already things to do..." Darin thoughts to herself.
Dao turned to her. “Want to be partners?”
Darin almost choked on air.
“Y-yes. Sure.”
Guess it wasn't so bad after all.
They walked to a quiet corner of the courtyard. Dao stepped into the light, clasping her hands behind her back. “What should I do?” she asked, tilting her head.
Darin’s heart collapsed into warm goo.
“Um… j-just… smile? Or wave? Or anything you want…”
Dao nodded, pushing her hair behind her ear.
Then she looked directly at the camera.
And smiled.
Not her polite smile.
Not her classroom smile.
But a soft, real, sweet smile — the one Darin remembered seeing only when Dao felt safe.
Darin forgot she was supposed to hit record.
Dao blinked. “Uh.. Darin?”
“Ah! S-sorry!” She hurriedly tapped the screen. “Okay, go ahead.”
Dao laughed softly — and the camera recorded every second.
She waved.
She spun lightly in place.
She made a tiny heart with her fingers.
She smiled again, bright and gentle.
“And… done,” Darin breathed, more like a confession than a statement.
Dao stepped closer, peeking at the screen. “Can I see?”
Darin nodded, replaying it.
As they watched together, Dao leaned closer — so close Darin could feel the warmth of her shoulder, the faint scent of her shampoo.
“Oh,” Dao whispered. “You filmed it really nicely.”
Darin’s cheeks heated. “Really?”
“It feels… soft.” Dao looked up at her. “Like how you see things.”
Darin’s breath caught.
“Thank you,” Dao said quietly. Suddenly, Dao brightened. “Now your turn.”
“M-my what?”
“I want to film you.”
Darin nearly died.
“N-no— I mean— I’m not good— I look weird—”
Dao shook her head gently. “I want to try. And I want to film you. Just… for practice.”
Darin hesitated.
“Please?”
And there goes the magic word. Could you blame her for not declining, really?
“O-okay…”
She stood stiffly in front of the camera, hands glued to her sides.
Dao giggled. “Relax. You look like a scared tree.”
“I am a scared tree—”
Dao laughed harder — the soft, quiet kind that felt like a reward.
“Okay,” she said, lifting the camera. “Just be yourself.”
“Being myself is the problem,” Darin muttered.
Dao smiled gently. “Then be the version of yourself who helped me with my locker yesterday. She seemed brave.”
She inhaled slowly. Lifted her chin. Softened her shoulders.
Dao pressed record.
For 10 seconds, Darin simply stood there — not smiling too much, not posing — just being.
Dao lowered the phone.
“You looked pretty,” she said quietly.
Darin short-circuited.
“W-what?”
“In the video.” Dao smiled faintly. “You look nice like that. Natural.”
Darin wanted to bury herself alive but also float away. Forever.
They turned in their clips to the senior, who gave them both approving nods.
“You two have good chemistry,” he said. “I hope you work on projects together.”
Dao smiled towards Darin. “I’d like that.”
Usually, Darin would rush home immediately after school.
Avoiding crowds. Avoiding interactions.
But today, she walked slower.
Dao walked beside her.
“Today was fun,” Dao said softly.
Darin nodded. “Y-yeah. It was.”
“I’m glad we joined that club,” Dao continued. “I think… I think I want to try acting. Just something small.”
Darin’s breath caught.
Acting.
Dao chose acting.
Dao was choosing her future — unknowingly — but naturally.
“And you?” Dao asked.
Darin looked down at her hands.
“I want to try writing.”
Dao smiled brightly. “Then… we can make something together someday.”
Someday.
The word echoed like a promise.
A soft, warm, hopeful promise.
Dao walked a little closer — their shoulders brushing for just a second. And Darin, with a steadying breath, didn’t pull away.
Today wasn’t dramatic or emotional or terrifying. It was just…
Fluffy.
Soft.
Warm.
A day where their futures quietly aligned.
Chapter 8: Soft Starts and Slow smiles
Chapter Text
Morning sunlight spilled lazily across the school courtyard, warming the edges of Darin’s uniform as she walked along the path leading to the main building. The air smelled faintly of freshly cut grass, and the faint buzz of chatter floated through the hallways like soft music. It was another ordinary school day—or at least, it should have been. But for Darin, ordinary had a slightly different flavor now.
Because Dao existed.
And not the fragile, famous, tragic Dao from a world that had already ended. This Dao—the one smiling softly at her from across the hall—was alive, unbothered, and completely unaware of what Darin knew.
Darin pressed her glasses up her nose, taking a deep breath. She had promised herself she would be braver, a little more confident than yesterday. Just… 1% braver.
She hadn’t quite mastered it yet. Halfway down the hall, she nearly collided with a group of students laughing too loudly. Her bag swung, hitting one of them gently.
“Whoa! Careful!” one boy said, his grin wide.
Darin flushed, muttering a quick “S-sorry!” as she adjusted her bag. She didn’t even notice the tiny smirk from the boy until she turned her head. That was progress, she didn’t freeze entirely.
Then she spotted Dao.
Dao was standing near the lockers, holding a couple of notebooks in her hands and looking perfectly composed as always. Her ponytail swayed gently as she shifted from one foot to the other.
Darin’s stomach did a little flip. She had seen Dao hundreds of times in her memory, yet this was different—this was real, tangible, now. She had to remind herself to breathe.
Dao’s eyes lifted and found her almost instantly. There was a faint warmth in the glance, casual but present, and a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
“Good morning, Darin!” Dao called, walking toward her with that light, flowing step that seemed to make the hallway glow.
“G-good morning,” Darin stammered, trying not to trip over her own feet.
“You look… different today,” Dao said casually, tilting her head. “Your hair’s… nice.”
Darin’s ears turned bright red. “I-I just… tied it differently,” she mumbled.
“It suits you,” Dao replied, her smile soft. “Really.”
Darin wanted to melt into the floor. She forced herself to nod. “Th-thank you…”
Dao chuckled lightly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Shall we walk to the club room together?”
Darin’s heart leapt. She nodded quickly, letting Dao fall into step beside her. The pace was easy, natural, neither too fast nor too slow—just enough for her to feel a tiny sense of belonging.
The Media & Film Club room was already buzzing with activity. Students clustered in groups, some fiddling with cameras and tripods, others huddled over storyboards. It was chaos—but a fun, creative chaos that felt strangely comforting to Darin.
“Alright, everyone!” Nicha, the club president, clapped her hands. “Today we’re doing something simple—quick, fun mini projects. Everyone will pair up, plan a 30-second skit, and perform it by the end of the session. Use props, dialogue, or whatever you want. Just… be creative!”
Darin peeked at Dao, who was already scanning the scattered props with an easy, quiet curiosity.
Dao’s voice leaned toward her. “Want to go first? Or should we observe a little?”
Darin hesitated. “I-I think… observing first… might be… safer.”
Dao chuckled softly, a gentle sound that made Darin’s ears heat up. “Safer is fine. We can try our luck after.”
They wandered to the back of the room, quietly observing others. A pair of students fumbled with a cardboard robot prop, laughing at their own mistakes. Another group argued playfully about whether the “villain” should trip over a banana peel or a prop tree.
Darin scribbled some notes, quietly thinking of ideas. Dao leaned over slightly, whispering. “You’re really focused, huh?”
Darin’s glasses slipped down her nose. She pushed them up quickly. “I-I just… like… to plan ahead,” she muttered.
Dao’s eyes softened. “I can tell. It’s cute, in a quiet way.”
Darin froze. Did Dao just… call her cute? Her cheeks flared.
Soon, Nicha clapped again. “Time to pick partners for the mini skits!”
Darin’s stomach dropped. She had hoped to avoid drawing attention to herself, but luck—or fate—was clearly not on her side.
Dao’s head turned toward her, soft brown eyes catching hers. “Looks like we’re partners again,” she said lightly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Darin’s throat went dry. “O-okay…”
They moved to a corner with a small stack of props: a cardboard spaceship, a rubber alien, a tiny toy dog, and a pile of hats.
“Uh… what do you want to do?” Darin asked quietly, trying to keep her voice normal.
Dao tilted her head, eyes sparkling. “I think… let’s make it something silly. Fun. Something that’ll make everyone laugh.”
Darin blinked. “Uh… okay… fun?”
Dao picked up the rubber alien and held it toward her. “This is our main character. Name it!”
Darin’s lips twitched into a small, shy smile. “Hmm… Marvin?”
“Perfect,” Dao said, nodding. “Marvin it is.”
As they brainstormed, the small skit began to take shape. Marvin the alien crash-landed on Earth, trying to find friends but tripping over every prop in sight. Dao effortlessly acted as the human friend, guiding Marvin with gentle encouragement. Darin narrated the scene, adding dialogue and commentary that made Dao giggle softly.
“You’re… really funny when you write like this,” Dao whispered at one point, nudging Darin lightly.
Darin’s heart jumped. “I-I’m not that funny,” she stammered, but she couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at her lips.
They rehearsed together, brushing hands occasionally as they swapped props. Every tiny touch was electric in the softest, most innocent way.
By the time they performed, they had the entire club laughing at Marvin’s antics. Dao’s infectious laughter made Darin’s chest feel light. It was effortless, easy, and warm—a perfect contrast to the heavy memories she carried from the future.
The club ended, and most students rushed off to grab snacks or walk home. Dao lingered, gathering the props and neatly stacking them back in their corner. Darin followed, keeping a careful distance.
“You did well today,” Dao said softly. “Your script… it made everything fun.”
Darin adjusted her glasses, unsure how to respond. “Th-thank you…” she muttered.
“You’re improving,” Dao added with a faint smile. “Being braver… it’s noticeable.”
Darin felt heat rise in her cheeks. “I-I’m trying…”
Dao tilted her head slightly, as if studying her. “I like that. You trying, I mean.”
A flutter of warmth spread through Darin’s chest. She hadn’t expected Dao to notice, let alone say something so gentle and sincere.
“Uh… maybe… we could… try brainstorming for the next skit together sometime?” Darin asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Dao’s smile widened just slightly. “I’d like that.”
Outside, the sun had dipped lower in the sky, painting the courtyard in soft hues of orange and pink. Darin and Dao walked side by side, books and props neatly in their hands.
Dao paused, adjusting her bag strap. “You’re quieter than usual on the walk home,” she observed lightly.
Darin swallowed. “I-I’m… thinking… about the skit… and… stuff…”
Dao giggled softly. “Stuff is good. Thinking is good. But you look… concentrated.”
Darin’s ears burned. “I-I just… don’t want to mess up…”
Dao tilted her head. “You won’t. Not when you try this hard.”
They walked in gentle silence for a while, the soft sounds of the neighborhood filling the air. Birds chirped, leaves rustled in the breeze, and Darin realized she could breathe a little easier than she had in years.
It was ordinary. It was calm. It was soft. And for the first time since traveling back, she felt a little lighter.
That evening, Darin lingered in the classroom, tidying up leftover props. Dao stayed nearby, helping without saying much, just quietly stacking books and folding small sets.
At one point, their hands brushed over a small box of props. Neither pulled away. A faint warmth spread through the contact.
“You know,” Dao said softly, almost casually, “it’s nice… having someone to work with like this. I feel… safe, somehow.”
Darin blinked, heart fluttering. “Safe…?”
Dao nodded lightly, glancing up at her. “Yeah. Not in a scary way. Just… calm.”
Darin allowed herself a small, quiet smile. “I-I feel that too.”
And in that simple, domestic, ordinary moment—hands brushing over cardboard aliens and tiny hats—Darin realized that this was enough. Small steps. Soft starts. Slow smiles.
For today, at least, they were both just two students, quietly enjoying each other’s presence, harmlessly, safely. And tomorrow, maybe they would take one more step. One more small, slow, gentle step toward something neither of them fully understood yet—but both felt growing.
Chapter 9: Weekend Whispers
Notes:
short chapter ahead! (having brains farts... aka writers block)
Chapter Text
The sunlight spilled lazily across Dao’s bedroom floor, glinting off the polished wood. She sat cross-legged on the carpet, a sketchbook open on her lap, pencils scattered around like a miniature rainbow of possibility. Weekends had a different rhythm—slower, softer, a contrast to the school day’s structured chaos. Dao liked it that way. It gave her time to think, to breathe, to create little worlds on the blank pages of her notebook.
Her pencil hovered over the page, indecisive. Should the protagonist of her tiny sketch adventure be a shy animal trying to find its voice? Or a mischievous little sprite discovering a hidden treasure?
A laugh bubbled softly from the corner of her mind, unbidden. A memory from earlier in the week, Darin’s quiet voice explaining a skit idea, the way her glasses slipped down her nose, the faint pink on her cheeks when Dao had complimented her script.
Dao shook her head slightly, smiling. Why did that memory feel so… warm?
She pushed it aside and focused on her sketch. But somehow, the pencil seemed to move more confidently when she imagined Darin sitting across from her, flipping through the sketches, giving small, thoughtful nods, perhaps offering a quiet “I like that” or a soft chuckle.
The clock ticked slowly. Dao leaned back, stretching her arms above her head. A weekend morning alone—yet not lonely, exactly. There was something comforting about the thought of Darin existing somewhere, quietly thinking, planning, living her own small weekend world, separate but close.
Dao’s smile lingered. She shook her head again, laughing quietly at herself. “Why do I think about her so much?” she whispered. But even as she said it, she didn’t try to stop. The warmth didn’t feel complicated—just… right.
Across the city, Darin sat at a small wooden table in her tiny apartment, her laptop open and a notebook beside her. The weekend was hers to think, plan, and quietly practice being braver without the weight of the school day staring her down. Her glasses reflected the soft afternoon sunlight streaming through the window. She scribbled notes for a potential club project, ideas floating in her mind like colorful sparks. Yet, as much as she tried to focus on plotting storylines and sketches for the Media & Film Club, her mind wandered. Not to anyone else, not to classmates, not to school drama—but to Dao.
She remembered the way Dao had smiled at her during their last club meeting, the subtle warmth of that glance when Dao had noticed her quietly organizing props, the gentle way she had spoken when suggesting ideas. Darin’s chest ached just slightly—not sad, not longing exactly, but a quiet, steady thrum of awareness. She wasn’t fully certain what it was yet, this feeling, but she knew it made her want to do more. Be more.
She glanced at the small sketch of Marvin the alien she had drawn earlier—a reminder of their club antics. A faint smile tugged at her lips. Maybe today, she thought, she could try something different. Something just for herself, inspired by Dao.
She picked up her notebook and began scribbling a short, silly script about two friends exploring a hidden garden—one shy, careful, glasses-wearing; the other calm, confident, quietly encouraging. Darin paused mid-line and chuckled softly.
“You’re already creeping into my weekend plans, Dao,” she muttered, tapping the pencil against her notebook. But even as she said it, the warmth lingered—a quiet, soft feeling that made the ordinary weekend feel… brighter.
Dao hummed softly, flipping through her sketchbook for inspiration. A pile of pencils tumbled to the floor, and she reached down to gather them. As she did, she imagined Darin doing the same in her own room, scribbling ideas, organizing thoughts, quietly existing in a parallel rhythm.
Darin, meanwhile, paused at a line in her script, tapping her pencil against the page. She imagined Dao leaning over her shoulder in some imagined scenario, offering a small, approving nod. The thought made her heart lift slightly, a gentle, unexplainable happiness.
The city outside was alive with the weekend. Distant laughter, passing cars, birds, and the soft rustle of leaves in the wind. Yet in their separate spaces, both Dao and Darin felt a subtle tether. Neither fully recognized it yet, neither acted on it, but it existed—warm, quiet, unspoken.
Dao tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, glanced at the clock, and smiled. A little while longer, just a little while longer, and the weekend would stretch lazily into evening, full of small possibilities.
Darin stretched, rubbing her eyes, and whispered softly to herself. “If I could just… make it easier for us… for her… maybe then everything would feel right.”
Neither noticed the parallel timing of their smiles, the quiet synchrony of their thoughts.
The world outside moved on. And yet, in their own separate corners, a small, soft magic lingered—a promise that even apart, they were quietly orbiting each other, learning the gentle rhythm of warmth, companionship, and the subtle beginnings of something deeper.
Chapter 10: Shelter for Two
Chapter Text
The bell rang with a tired hum, echoing through the hallways of Class 4/3 like a sigh of relief. After-school energy filled the corridors in a familiar rush—students gathering their bags, talking loudly, sprawling out of classrooms in clusters.
Darin packed up slower than everyone else.
She always did.
Even before the time travel, she had been the type to stay behind, rearranging her books until the room emptied enough for her to breathe. Today was no different… except it was.
Because Dao was still here.
Across the room, Dao lingered at her desk, packing her things neatly, notebooks aligned, pens tucked properly in a small pouch, everything zipped and arranged with her signature quiet elegance. She always moved with a kind of deliberate calm that drew people in without her trying.
Darin watched her for a moment, careful and secret, her heart tapping a familiar rhythm against her ribs. Seeing Dao like this—untouched by fame, unhurt, unbroken—was something Darin still hadn’t gotten used to.
The past felt fragile in her hands. Like one wrong move could shatter the chance she had been given. Outside, the sky was gray. Heavy clouds pressed low, thick with the promise of rain. A cool chill drifted through the open windows.
Dao looked up at the sky, lips pressing into a faint line. “Looks like it might rain,” she murmured.
Darin startled. She hadn’t realized Dao was speaking to her.
“A-ah… yeah. It does.”
Dao’s eyes softened. “Do you walk home?”
“Y-yes.”
“Me too.”
A beat passed. The classroom around them emptied until only silence and dust motes remained.
Dao stood, sliding her bag over one shoulder. “Let’s walk together?”
Darin blinked. Once. Twice.
In the old timeline, she would’ve panicked. She would’ve said no out of fear of being too much, too awkward, too visible.
But this wasn’t the old timeline.
She took a breath. A small, steadying one.
“Um.. Sure.
Dao smiled. Soft. Warm. Small. But enough to make Darin feel like she’d done the right thing. They stepped out of the school building just as the first drops of rain began to fall.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Darin flinched when cold droplets hit her glasses, smudging her vision instantly.
Dao, without hesitation, slipped her umbrella open with a practiced flick. The sound snapped gently in the quiet air.
“Come here,” Dao said.
And Darin, shorter by a few inches, moved under the small canopy. Their shoulders didn’t touch—but it was close. Close enough that Darin could feel the warmth radiating from Dao’s sleeve. Close enough that the rain’s soft drumming mixed with the quick flutter of her heartbeat.
The umbrella was… too small. Or maybe Dao was just too close.
Dao angled it slightly more toward Darin without a word.
She didn’t even have to say anything for Darin to feel taken care of.
They walked slowly through the campus paths, the rain falling harder by the minute. Students sprinted past them with bags over their heads, laughing or shouting as they made a run for home. But Dao and Darin walked at a gentle, shared pace. Darin kept her gaze down—on puddles, on the wet pavement, on anything but the girl beside her. But Dao, every so often, turned to look at her. Noticing small things.
“Your shoes okay?” Dao asked.
Darin looked down. “Y-yeah. They’re waterproof.” A beat. “Kind of.”
Dao laughed softly. “Kind of waterproof sounds like a problem.”
“It’s only a problem if I step in a lake.”
Dao’s laugh grew. The kind of laugh that made her eyes wrinkle the slightest bit at the corners. A laugh that Darin had missed for years without realizing just how much.
They approached a narrow walkway lined with sakura trees, their branches heavy with rain.
A group of students dashed past, bumping into Darin slightly. She stumbled.
Dao reacted instantly.
Her hand shot out, steadying Darin by the forearm. Firm, warm, grounding.
“You okay?”
Darin nodded quickly, though her heart wasn’t okay at all. “Y-yeah! Sorry—”
Dao tilted her head. “Why are you apologizing? You didn’t do anything.”
Darin pressed her lips together. She forgot sometimes—this Dao had no idea how many times Darin had apologized in the old timeline. How much she had shrunk herself.
The rain picked up, becoming a steady, soaking curtain.
Darin felt droplets splash onto her hair, her shoulders, her glasses.
“Oh—hold on,” Dao said, frowning up at the umbrella. “It’s too small for both of us.”
“I-I’m fine,” Darin lied.
“You’re getting wet.” Dao’s brows pulled together in concern. “Come closer.”
Darin nearly choked. “C-closer?”
Dao didn’t answer. Instead, she simply shifted. Her arm moved behind Darin—not touching, but guiding—until they stood closer under the tiny umbrella. Close enough that Darin felt Dao’s sleeve brush her shoulder. Close enough that Darin could hear the soft rhythm of her breathing.
By the time they reached the street, the rain had turned into a sudden downpour.
Dao pointed ahead. “Let’s go in there.”
A small café with warm lights glowed through its windows. A sign on the door read Cozy Brew with a tiny painted teacup. Students often came here during exam season, but today it was nearly empty.
The bell above the door chimed as they entered.
Warm air wrapped around them instantly, smelling of caramel and roasted coffee beans.
They shook the rain off gently. Darin instinctively tried wiping her glasses with the hem of her wet shirt—
Dao stopped her.
“No, no—don’t,” she said quickly. “You’ll scratch them.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, soft cloth. “Here.”
Darin froze. “Y-you carry that?”
Dao shrugged. “My brother scratches his glasses all the time. I keep one in case he forgets.” Then her eyes softened. “And you almost scratched yours.”
She stepped a little closer. Her fingers brushed Darin’s as she handed the cloth over. Just a small touch.
But Darin felt it everywhere.
“T-thanks,” she whispered.
Dao just smiled.
They ordered two drinks—Dao choosing a warm milk tea, Darin choosing hot chocolate. When they sat down, Darin took a sip and nearly sighed at the warmth.
Dao watched her with a tiny smile. “Is it good?”
“Yes… do you want to try?”
Dao blinked. Surprised—but pleasantly. She leaned forward, taking Darin’s cup gently.
Her lips touched where Darin’s had been on the rim.
Darin almost fainted.
Dao took a sip. Her eyes widened slightly. “Oh. This is really good.”
“You can have it if you want,” Darin blurted.
Dao shook her head. “Let’s share.”
Her voice was light, but something inside Darin flipped over.
Dao slid her milk tea toward her. “Try mine too?”
Darin reached out with trembling fingers and took a careful sip.
It was warm. Soft. And tasted like Dao somehow—gentle, subtle, soothing.
“I like yours better,” Darin admitted quietly.
“Then we can share,” Dao said again, softer this time, almost like she liked the idea.
They sat side by side on a couch seat. Not touching—but close. Close enough.
A few minutes later, their pastries arrived. Darin took a cautious bite of her croissant—and a crumb stuck to her cheek.
Dao noticed immediately.
Without even thinking, she reached over and brushed the crumb away with her thumb.
Darin froze. Completely.
Dao didn’t even seem to realize what she’d done until after. Then she blinked—once, slowly—and lowered her hand, looking away with a small, shy laugh.
“Sorry,” she murmured.
“N-no, it’s okay,” Darin said quickly. Too quickly.
But Dao’s cheeks held a soft pink tint.
When they finally stood to leave, the rain outside had eased to a gentler drizzle.
Dao shook her hair lightly—and a damp strand stuck to her cheek.
Darin stared for one second too long.
Dao looked at her, confused. “What is it?”
“N-nothing,” Darin whispered—but her hand lifted on instinct.
She stepped closer, gently brushing the wet strand away with her fingers. Tucking it behind Dao’s ear. Slowly. Carefully.
The moment stretched.
Dao’s breath stilled.
Her eyes widened—soft, startled, warm—and Darin’s fingertips brushed her cheek for just a second longer than necessary.
Neither of them moved. Then—
Dao swallowed, looking down. “Thank you.”
Darin stepped back, ears burning. “S-sorry. It just—”
“It’s okay,” Dao said quietly. Her voice was soft. Fragile in its sincerity.
Outside, Dao reopened her umbrella.
“Come on,” she said. “We’ll walk together. Again.”
Darin nodded, stepping under it—closer this time, without waiting for Dao to pull her.
The rain fell around them in a gentle rhythm, and their steps fell into sync. For now, this was enough. Little by little, warmth blooming softly between them in the smallest ways.
Chapter 11: Where Warmth Meets Distraction
Chapter Text
The midday sun poured through the classroom windows, casting long, warm stripes across the desks. The chatter of students had slowed to a soft hum as they settled into lunch, some pulling out bent bento boxes, others clutching takeaway from nearby shops.
Darin clutched her tray nervously, walking through the crowded cafeteria. Her heart thumped a little faster than usual, not from the food line, not from the noise, but from the anticipation that the new day had brought. She had made a small decision that morning — a subtle but significant one — to try something different. To not just float in the background. To be seen.
And, as luck or timing would have it, she saw Dao at a table near the window, alone, her hair catching the light as she adjusted a notebook. The familiar serene smile was there, soft and gentle, exactly the way Darin remembered, yet new in its simplicity, in its unburdened calm.
Darin felt a pulse of warmth but reminded herself to breathe. Small steps, she thought. Don’t overthink it.
Just as she was about to make her way toward Dao, a familiar voice called out.
“Darin! Hey, over here!”
Phu stood at a nearby table, his basketball backpack slung casually over one shoulder, flashing a grin that could disarm even the most nervous. His hair was damp from the mild morning drizzle, which only added a playful dishevelment to his confident air.
Darin hesitated, her instinct urging her to duck, to keep moving toward Dao, but another part of her — a part she had promised herself would be bolder — nudged her forward. She smiled nervously and made her way toward him.
“Hey,” she said softly.
Phu’s grin widened. “There you are! Thought you’d vanish into the crowd again.”
“I… um, I’m trying not to,” Darin said, adjusting her glasses and smoothing the front of her uniform shirt.
Phu laughed lightly, not mockingly but warmly, and gestured to the empty seat beside him. “Then mission accomplished. Sit with me?”
Darin blinked. The idea of sitting somewhere comfortable, with someone friendly, was appealing. Tentatively, she nodded.
As she slid into the seat, she noticed Dao glance up, her gaze briefly flicking toward them. Darin felt a small flutter in her chest, like the first note of a song she’d forgotten she loved. But Dao didn’t move; she returned to her lunch quietly, serene as always, just noticing, perhaps, the subtle connection Darin had tried to maintain.
Phu leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “So,” he said, voice light and teasing, “how’s the bravest girl in class today?”
Darin raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Brave?”
“Yeah,” Phu said. “You know… for actually showing up, not hiding behind your tray, and making me wonder if you’d ever speak to anyone outside the library.” He winked playfully.
Darin laughed softly, a little breathless. “I’m… trying.”
“That’s all I’m asking,” Phu replied, his tone suddenly softer, more genuine. “No heroic feats needed. Just… being here.”
For the first time, Darin felt her shoulders loosen. Small victories count, she reminded herself, as her hands brushed against the tray, and then against the spilled notes Phu had placed there by accident. They laughed together as she helped gather them, the touch fleeting but comfortable.
Across the cafeteria, Dao was observing silently. Lin, ever elegant, had joined her table, sliding a chair in smoothly, graceful as a wisp of silk. She smiled politely at Dao.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Lin said softly, placing her own lunch beside Dao’s. “I just thought it’d be nice to join you today.”
Dao blinked, slightly surprised, then returned the smile. “Not at all. Thank you.”
As Lin chatted, warm and charming, Dao found herself glancing subtly toward Darin and Phu, noticing the easy way Phu leaned in when Darin explained something, the laughter that escaped freely. Dao felt a small, unexpected warmth in her chest. She couldn’t define it yet — it wasn’t longing, not love — but a quiet, gentle curiosity, a sense of being drawn to someone who could bring such light even without trying.
Meanwhile, Darin’s conversation with Phu flowed easily, bright and buoyant. Phu teased her about her careful handwriting, complimented her on her quiet intelligence, and even nudged her lightly when she dropped a pen. Darin caught herself smiling more than she expected, enjoying the banter, the sense of being seen without expectation.
“I swear,” Phu said, shaking his head in mock disbelief, “you’re like… a puzzle. Hard to figure out, but worth it.”
Darin laughed, lightly. “A puzzle?”
“Yeah,” Phu replied. “You’re smart, but not in a boring way. You’re cautious, but funny if I give you a chance. And you have this… this way of noticing little things. I like it.”
Her cheeks warmed, and for a moment, she felt a strange lightness, a sense of possibility she hadn’t felt in a long time.
At the same time, Dao and Lin’s table was filled with quiet, easy conversation. Lin was careful not to dominate, instead drawing out Dao’s thoughts on the books she was reading and the small projects she was planning. Dao’s laughter was soft but genuine, and Lin’s polite compliments only made it bloom more freely.
Occasionally, Dao’s eyes flicked toward Darin and Phu. Noticing Darin’s laughter, her unguarded moments, her warmth in conversation. It was subtle, but Dao felt it. A gentle tug at her attention, a whisper of recognition, though she didn’t yet know why it mattered.
The lunch bell rang eventually, signaling the end of their break. Both groups rose from the tables, gathering trays and packing lunches. Darin lingered slightly, almost reluctant to let the moment end.
Phu grinned. “Same time tomorrow?” he asked casually.
Darin nodded quickly, almost fumbling with the reply. “Y-Yeah… that sounds good.”
Lin gave a polite nod toward Dao. “See you tomorrow, then,” she said softly, eyes glinting with subtle amusement.
Dao smiled, a faint flush on her cheeks, and murmured, “See you tomorrow.”
The students began filing back toward classrooms or heading toward the courtyard. Darin and Dao, their lunches ending in parallel yet separate ways, found themselves noticing each other’s subtle movements. Not intentionally, not in a dramatic way — just awareness, a shared rhythm of quiet observation.
The school bell rang, signaling the end of classes, and the hallways erupted into the familiar post-school chaos. Students laughed, shouted, and called to one another as they spilled into the corridors, backpacks bouncing against shoulders, shoes squeaking lightly on the polished floors.
Darin stepped out slowly, taking a deep breath. The sun was soft, angled low, giving a golden glow to the school grounds. She felt a pull toward the street beyond the gates, the desire for a calm walk home after a busy day competing with the temptation to linger in the warmth of the school’s energy.
“Going home?” Phu called, jogging lightly to catch up.
Darin turned, managing a small smile. “Yeah… you too?”
Phu grinned, tossing his bag over his shoulder. “Of course. Mind if I walk with you?”
Darin hesitated only briefly. “Sure.”
Together, they left the school grounds. The streets were quiet now, the soft hum of cars and motorcycles the only background noise. Phu matched his pace with hers naturally, an easy rhythm that felt comfortable.
“You seemed… happier today,” Phu said casually, glancing at her.
Darin blinked, surprised. “Happier?”
“You laughed,” he said, shrugging with a playful grin. “Not that tiny, nervous laugh you usually do. A proper laugh. You even almost rolled your eyes at me once — you’ve got that expression that makes you… really human.”
Darin felt her cheeks warm and looked down. “I… I guess I’m just… trying something different.”
Phu laughed lightly. “Good. That’s all I ask. Just don’t turn into a completely unrecognizable person, okay?”
“I won’t,” Darin whispered, but her small smile betrayed her nerves and the truth — she was already changing, bit by bit, without realizing how much Phu’s simple presence had encouraged her.
Meanwhile, across town, Dao and Lin were walking toward a small, cozy café. The late afternoon sunlight illuminated the leaves overhead, casting delicate shadows across the sidewalk. Dao adjusted her bag, glancing at Lin occasionally, noting how graceful she walked, how easy her presence felt.
“You’re quiet today,” Lin observed, tilting her head slightly. “Everything okay?”
Dao hesitated, her fingers brushing lightly against the strap of her bag. “I… I guess I’m just noticing things. Around me.”
Lin’s smile was subtle, warm, encouraging. “Good. Sometimes noticing quietly is better than rushing to act.”
Dao’s lips twitched. “I suppose so.”
They reached the café, a small, familiar place with a few tables outside under a canopy and soft music filtering through the windows. Lin pulled out a chair for Dao. “After you,” she said politely.
Dao settled in, setting her bag carefully on the floor. She glanced around, taking in the gentle ambiance — the scent of freshly brewed coffee, the faint sweetness of pastries, the quiet chatter of other patrons.
Lin ordered something simple for herself and offered to get Dao her favorite. Dao shook her head with a small laugh. “I’ll just take tea, thanks. I can manage.”
Back on the street, Darin and Phu had slowed their pace, noticing a light drizzle beginning to fall. The rain was gentle, warm for the season, but enough to make shoes slick and hair dampen.
Phu reached into his bag, producing a small umbrella. “Lucky for us,” he said, holding it over both their heads.
Darin laughed softly, the tension in her shoulders easing. “We’re soaked already,” she said, adjusting her glasses.
“Just a little,” Phu replied, shrugging with a teasing grin. “Not enough to ruin the day.”
They walked under the umbrella in companionable silence, the soft patter of rain on fabric and pavement filling the spaces between words. Darin felt the light thrill of being noticed, of having someone walk beside her who made her feel simultaneously protected and free.
“You always carry an umbrella?” she asked, glancing at him.
“Not always,” Phu said. “But today seemed… right. And besides, I figured you might need one.”
Darin’s cheeks tinged pink, but she smiled. “Thanks.”
Phu laughed lightly. “No problem. Though if you wanted to, we could have run. Get a little soaked, maybe laugh ourselves silly.”
Darin blinked, imagining it, the absurdity and freedom of it. “Maybe next time,” she said softly.
At the café, Dao and Lin had found a corner table. Lin’s energy was warm, gentle, but quiet — not demanding, not intrusive. Dao felt herself relax, even as she noted Lin’s occasional glances toward her, curious, attentive, playful.
“You like people watching?” Lin asked softly, gesturing subtly toward the window. “I always enjoy seeing how people interact without them knowing I’m paying attention.”
Dao tilted her head, thoughtful. “Maybe… I do, sometimes. There’s a lot you can learn about someone just by noticing how they move, who they smile at, who they avoid.”
Lin nodded, sipping her drink. “Exactly. And it’s interesting… some people make you notice things you didn’t expect to notice.”
Dao felt warmth in her chest, inexplicable but gentle, as she looked at Lin. She realized it wasn’t just Lin’s charm, but the way the world seemed softer around her — the way her attention, even slight, made Dao feel visible without forcing it.
A small pastry arrived, placed neatly in front of Dao. Lin smiled. “I thought you might like this.”
Dao chuckled softly, cutting a piece carefully. “You’re too considerate,” she said, but the words were lighter than usual, free of judgment or caution.
Meanwhile, Darin and Phu had reached a small park on the way home. The drizzle had turned to a soft, steady rain. Phu tilted the umbrella slightly so both were still covered. Darin’s glasses fogged slightly from her own breath, but she laughed lightly at the absurdity.
“You know,” she said, “I didn’t think walking home could be… enjoyable in the rain.”
Phu chuckled. “Only if you have good company.” He paused, watching her reaction. “Hey… I mean it. You’re fun to be around. And brave, in your own way.”
Darin’s heart fluttered, the praise gentle, the acknowledgment easy to take in. “Thanks,” she said softly. “I’m… trying.”
“You’re doing fine,” Phu replied, nudging her lightly with his shoulder as they walked. “Just keep being you.”
The rain continued, but it no longer felt cold or inconvenient. It was soft, playful, and somehow shared. A quiet moment stretched between them, comfortable and unforced.
At the café, Dao and Lin were finishing their drinks. Dao noticed a strand of her hair sticking to her cheek from the humidity. Lin reached out, gently tucking it behind her ear.
Dao froze, surprised, before laughing softly. “Thanks.”
Lin shrugged, smiling faintly. “It’s nothing.”
Yet that small gesture lingered, subtle, domestic in a soft, intimate way — a moment that would stay with Dao longer than she expected. The world outside felt a little smaller, the afternoon slower, gentler.
Dao glanced out the window for a brief second, catching sight of the glint of wet streets, people hurrying home, umbrellas dotting the sidewalks. She felt oddly at ease, calm, and quietly attentive to those small gestures that made the world feel warmer.
The late afternoon stretched into early evening. Both pairs — Darin with Phu, Dao with Lin — walked along their respective paths, small interactions filling the space with laughter, teasing, gentle gestures, the simple sharing of mundane moments that nonetheless left a sense of soft, quiet connection.
Darin realized, as she turned a corner, that she could feel a subtle pull toward the person she was most concerned about — Dao — even as she enjoyed Phu’s company. She noticed, at the back of her mind, that the warm, easy laughter she shared now could become a bridge, one day, to something deeper.
Dao, meanwhile, felt a quiet curiosity, warmth she didn’t yet define, as she watched Lin’s easy confidence and gentle attention. And somewhere, in the quiet part of her heart, she realized she was noticing Darin more than she could explain. Not because she was jealous, not because she had to be — simply because she was aware.
The sun dipped low, painting the city in shades of amber and rose, and the streets began to empty. The day had ended, mundane yet significant, carrying small, quiet threads that would weave the next steps in their slowly unfolding connection.
And somewhere, between laughter, light teasing, and gentle gestures, both Darin and Dao understood, subtly, that these ordinary moments were the beginning of something quietly important.
Chapter 12: Soft Flutters at the School Fair
Notes:
to be fair yall, timeskips are irrelevant here. it could be another day of school, weekends or whatever it is. so dont mind it. also i want you guys to keep in mind that lin and dao are friends for a long time. same as phu and darin, its just they never get so close back then
Chapter Text
The classroom hummed with the usual chatter of Class 4/3 as students shuffled their papers and whispered to their neighbors. Darin sat quietly at her desk, trying to focus on the last few assignments before the bell, but her mind kept drifting. Something in the air felt electric, a little different than the usual end-of-day chaos.
The teacher cleared her throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “Alright, everyone, before we wrap up for today, I have an exciting announcement.” She smiled warmly, her eyes twinkling behind the frames of her glasses. “Tomorrow, we’ll be hosting our annual school fair! There will be booths, games, activities, and even performances. Everyone is encouraged to participate—whether running a booth, joining a club activity, or just enjoying the fun.”
A murmur ran through the classroom. Some students leaned forward, eager and buzzing. Others exchanged glances, clearly unsure of how to jump into all the activity. Darin’s own pulse quickened—her shyness always made these bustling events a little daunting, but the thrill of something new made her stomach flutter.
The teacher continued, “It’s not just about fun. The fair is a chance to work with your classmates, show creativity, and maybe even make new friends. I expect everyone to try something new tomorrow, even if it’s just helping someone or cheering them on.”
Dao sat quietly, listening, a subtle smile playing at her lips. She seemed effortlessly calm, as if any bustling event could never ruffle her composure. Her gaze flicked briefly toward Darin, whose hands fidgeted slightly over her notebook. That tiny movement—a brief sign of nervousness—made Dao tilt her head just a fraction, eyes soft with what could almost be concern.
Darin looked up at that brief flicker of attention, her cheeks heating. She quickly returned her gaze to her notebook, trying not to let the sudden warmth in her chest show. Dao, as always, had a way of being noticed even without trying.
The next morning dawned sunny and bright, the kind of day where the air felt warm and heavy with the scent of blooming flowers. Students poured into the school, chattering in groups, wearing bright smiles and carrying bundles of materials for the fair. Balloons swayed from booths, colorful banners fluttered, and laughter echoed across the courtyard.
Darin clutched her water bottle tightly, already feeling the sun press against her skin. She wiped a bead of sweat from her brow, adjusting her glasses, which fogged slightly in the heat. This was going to be a long day—and she wasn’t sure she was ready for all the energy and attention the fair would bring.
Dao, meanwhile, walked gracefully across the courtyard, her steps calm and sure. Her bag was slung neatly over one shoulder, and she seemed unfazed by the heat, by the chaos, by the bustling groups of students all around. As her gaze swept across the crowd, she noticed Darin standing near the edge of a small activity area, fidgeting slightly, and she gave the tiniest, most imperceptible nod of acknowledgment—warmth hidden in the subtlety of her glance.
Before Dao could reach her, a tall, sporty figure jogged over, holding a cold drink with a bright smile plastered across his face. “Looks like someone could use this more than me,” he said, handing it over.
Darin blinked in surprise, taking the drink with both hands. “Oh—th-thank you,” she stammered, cheeks turning pink.
Dao reached them a moment later, her expression calm but her gaze flickering with a small, almost imperceptible curiosity. She watched Darin tilt the bottle to her lips, nearly spilling it in her haste, before the boy caught it deftly. A quiet laugh escaped Dao—a soft, genuine sound, unnoticed by no one, including Darin.
“Thanks, Phu,” Darin mumbled, taking a cautious sip. The cold liquid hit her tongue and throat, a brief reprieve from the sun’s heat.
Phu grinned. “You’re welcome.”
Dao’s lips curved into a tiny smile as she observed. Her warmth for Darin, subtle but undeniable, flickered in her chest. Darin wasn’t entirely used to this kind of attention, and watching her adjust to it with a mix of embarrassment and delight was quietly satisfying.
Darin joined the booth for the sports and games club, where Phu energetically explained the activities. Dao moved toward the crafts and decorations booth with Lin, who quietly guided her in organizing ribbons and banners.
Darin struggled slightly with the first game—a simple ring toss—but laughed at herself when a ring bounced off the target spectacularly. “Oh no, that’s terrible!” she exclaimed, red-faced.
“Don’t worry, Darin,” Phu said, laughing. “Everyone’s terrible at first. Let me show you a trick.” He demonstrated with exaggerated flair, making her giggle despite the heat.
Dao, meanwhile, was quietly focused on arranging colorful ribbons, noticing how her small movements were observed by Lin with gentle admiration. Every so often, her gaze flicked toward Darin, who was laughing and gesturing animatedly with Phu. The warmth of watching Darin enjoying herself brought a smile to Dao’s face—a subtle echo of something that felt familiar, comforting, and… unspoken.
By mid-afternoon, the sun pressed heavier, and the students began retreating to shaded areas. Darin wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, feeling sweat trickle down her temples. Dao, noticing Darin’s discomfort, had moved closer instinctively. She opened her mouth to offer her own bottle, but Phu beat her to it.
Darin glanced up to see Phu handing her another cold drink. “I knew you’d need this soon,” he said with a wink, handing it over.
This made Dao tilt watched both of them, not really knowing what she feels but a slight tug to her heart which she doesn't know what it is.
Later, they all gathered on a shaded bench to enjoy snacks. Darin and Dao, along with Phu and Lin, shared small, domestic gestures that made the afternoon feel gentle and ordinary.
Dao tucks a stray hair behind Darin’s ear without thinking, a quiet gesture of intimacy. Darin’s hand brushes against Dao’s sleeve as she passes her a piece of candy. They laugh softly when a small spill happens, and Phu teases them both good-naturedly.
The games continue, the sun lowers, and the fair winds down. Dao adjusts a loose strap on her bag for Darin, who in turn helps Dao straighten a ribbon on her sleeve. Tiny touches, shared laughter, casual care—each moment a soft thread weaving their connection closer.
As the fair comes to a close, Phu and Lin head off in different directions, leaving Darin and Dao to walk a short distance together.
They stroll in companionable silence, the sounds of the fair fading behind them. Darin finally allows herself to glance at Dao more openly. Her posture, her gentle smile, the faint warmth in her gaze—all of it tugs gently at Darin’s chest.
Dao notices Darin’s attention too. She doesn’t fully understand why it matters so much, only that the day has been better, lighter, and somehow warmer with Darin nearby.
Before parting ways, Dao nudges Darin slightly with her elbow. “Thanks for walking with me today,” she says quietly.
Darin smiles softly, letting out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “Yeah… thank you, Dao. For, you know… being here.”
They wave to each other, small gestures that speak volumes in their quietness. Both feel the lingering warmth, the subtle reassurance that today, nothing bad happened, and tomorrow might just be another day to enjoy each other’s presence.
The school fair fades behind them, but the soft laughter, gentle touches, and small moments of care remain—a quiet, unspoken bond slowly growing stronger.
Chapter 13: Tidying Together
Chapter Text
The last bell had rung, and most students had already poured out of the classroom, their chatter fading down the hallway like echoes of a day almost done. The sunlight streaming through the tall windows caught the dust motes floating lazily in the air, making the room seem unusually peaceful.
Dao and Darin remained behind, assigned to help tidy up Class 4/3. It wasn’t a punishment or a chore—it was part of the school’s routine, and this time, the pair had been chosen together. Darin wasn’t sure if the timing was coincidence or some cosmic nudge, but she didn’t question it. She simply followed Dao’s lead, carrying a stack of notebooks to the side while Dao gathered a few stray pencils and erasers scattered across the floor.
“You always seem so… organized,” Darin said quietly, trying not to sound like she was staring.
Dao glanced up, a small, serene smile tugging at her lips. “I like to keep things neat. It makes the day feel calmer"
Darin nodded.
"So, there's no Phu today?" Dao asked, ever so lightly.
One might think she's overly observant about Darin's new friend. She probably is but Darin doesn't know that.
"Oh, yeah, he's... um at his basketball practice," Darin said. "Was suppose to walk me home but he had to go over there." She added, laughing awkwardly.
Well, this just went from calm to awkward atmosphere... Way to go.
Dao didn't look over, but she listened, she listened to what Darin was saying. She couldn't look at Darin cause she regretted asking that question. Why would she even pry that much anyway.
“Here,” Dao said, offering a small cleaning cloth to Darin. “The desks are dusty.”
Darin took it, her fingers brushing Dao’s for just a fraction of a second. She felt the faint warmth linger longer than it should. “Thanks,” she whispered, feeling her face heat up, though Dao didn’t seem to notice.
Completely forgetting what just happened. They moved through the room in silence for a few moments, arranging desks in neat rows, picking up stray papers, and wiping down the chalkboard ledge. Occasionally, Dao would pause to straighten a notebook or stack a textbook, and Darin found herself watching the gentle, precise way Dao moved. It was the same composure she remembered—but softer now, untainted by the pressures of fame or tragedy.
“You’re really careful,” Dao remarked casually, glancing at Darin as she adjusted the stack of books in her arms. “I like that.”
Darin blinked, caught off guard. “I… I try. I just—don’t want to mess anything up.”
Dao’s smile was light, almost teasing. “You won’t. We’ll do this together.”
It wasn’t commanding or authoritative—it was a quiet reassurance. And even though Darin thought she was just being friendly, her chest felt tight in the best way, like something gentle had settled there without her realizing.
As they wiped down the chalkboard, a small cloud of chalk dust rose, coating the air between them. Dao waved her hand lightly, dispersing it, and a few stray particles landed on Darin’s sleeves.
“Hey—watch out!” Darin laughed softly, brushing at her arm. “I’m trying to be clean, not… chalky.”
Dao laughed too, a soft, melodic sound that made the room feel warmer. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to attack you with chalk dust.”
Darin shook her head, smiling. “It’s fine. Just… surprise dust attacks.”
They moved on to the desks, and Darin found herself brushing off the surfaces, stacking chairs atop them when they were done. Dao handed her a few cloths, and when Darin fumbled slightly, Dao reached over to steady her hands. Their fingers touched again, and Darin felt the heat rise in her cheeks, fumbling with the cloth for a moment before laughing nervously.
“You’re so easily flustered,” Dao said with a quiet grin.
“I’m… not!” Darin protested, though her smile betrayed her.
“You totally are,” Dao teased, tilting her head, eyes soft and observant. “It’s… kind of cute.”
Darin froze, then shook her head quickly, pretending to adjust a chair. “I… I’m fine,” she said, but her heart was pounding like a drum. She told herself it was just because they were close while cleaning. That was it. Just friendly, cooperative closeness. Nothing more.
Next, they moved to the windows, wiping down the glass. The sunlight poured in, warm on their backs, and the faint hum of the empty school made the moment feel suspended in time.
“Here,” Dao said, handing Darin a spray bottle. “Try not to squirt me.”
“I wouldn’t do that” Darin said, but she couldn’t resist smiling as she sprayed a small mist on the glass. A few droplets accidentally landed near Dao’s hands.
Dao laughed, stepping back. “You did it on purpose!”
“I swear I didn’t!” Darin protested, though she laughed along, enjoying the rare sound of Dao’s unguarded giggle.
After finishing the windows, Dao pulled a small rag from her bag. “We’re almost done,” she said, her tone light. “Just a few desks left.”
Darin’s hands were sore from moving the chairs and dusting, but she didn’t mind. There was a quiet satisfaction in the task, but more than that, she felt… at ease with Dao by her side. Safe. Something she hadn’t realized she needed until now.
When they reached the last row of desks, Darin set down the final chair and stretched. “Done,” she said, panting lightly. “We actually did it.”
Dao smiled, brushing imaginary dust off her sleeves. “Yes. It looks much better.”
They paused for a moment, surveying the classroom. Sunlight poured over the neatly aligned desks, polished surfaces, and gleaming floor. For a second, the room felt almost magical—peaceful and calm in a way it never did during regular classes.
“Thanks for helping me today,” Dao said quietly, turning to Darin. Her eyes held something unspoken, a warmth that made Darin’s stomach flutter.
“I… it’s fine,” Darin said, trying to sound casual. She pushed down the fluttering feeling, telling herself it was just because Dao was nice. Just friendly. Nothing more.
Dao tilted her head, watching her. “You’re… better at this than I thought.”
Darin laughed softly. “I think I’m learning from the best.”
Dao’s smile widened slightly, small and genuine, and Darin felt something warm spread in her chest. She told herself it was just satisfaction at completing the cleaning. Nothing more.
“Do you want to… walk with me to the club room?” Dao asked, adjusting her bag.
Darin blinked, caught off guard. “Uh… sure,” she said, recovering quickly. “Let’s go.”
As they walked down the hallway together, their shoulders brushed lightly. Both noticed it, both registered it—but only Dao felt a faint warmth blossom, subtle yet unmistakable. Darin assumed it was just a casual, friendly gesture.
They reached the club room and began arranging supplies for the next day’s activity. Dao placed papers on the table, and Darin handed her markers and notebooks. They worked in comfortable silence for a while, only speaking occasionally to comment on neatness or suggest a placement.
“You know,” Dao said softly, looking up at Darin, “it’s… nice doing this together.”
Darin froze slightly, heart skipping a beat. “Yeah… I… I like it too,” she said, fumbling with the stack of notebooks. “It’s… fun.”
Dao’s eyes softened, her lips curving into that subtle, serene smile. She didn’t know exactly why her chest felt warmer than usual, but she didn’t care to question it. She simply enjoyed the moment, enjoying the easy rhythm of working side by side with Darin.
Minutes passed, and the club room gradually became more organized. Darin wiped her hands on her sleeve, looking over at Dao. She was… adorable. Quietly focused, calm, and yet there was something about her presence that made Darin feel lighter, like the world outside the walls of this classroom didn’t matter at all.
Dao glanced at Darin, noticing the small blush creeping over her cheeks. She didn’t know why, but she felt a flutter in her chest at the sight, a warmth that lingered long after Darin turned back to arrange markers on the shelf.
Finally, the work was done. The classroom gleamed, sunlight catching the polished surfaces and clean windows.
“Finished,” Dao said softly, stretching her arms above her head.
Darin mirrored her, laughing lightly.
They shared a brief glance, a quiet connection, a simple moment suspended in ordinary life. No words were needed. It was soft, domestic, slice-of-life warmth—just two friends working together, enjoying the simplicity of each other’s company.
As they packed up their things to leave, Dao smiled at Darin once more. “Thanks for today.”
Darin nodded, still slightly flustered. “Anytime,” she said softly, hoping her voice sounded calm even though her heart was anything but.
The bell rang again, signaling the end of their duties. As they stepped out into the hallway, their shadows stretching along the sunlit floor, both felt something quietly shift. It wasn’t romance—at least, not yet—but it was warmth, comfort, and the beginning of something subtle, delicate, and infinitely sweet.
For the first time in a while, Darin thought maybe… being with Dao, even just like this, was exactly where she was supposed to be.
And Dao… well, she felt a little flutter she couldn’t explain, a warmth she hadn’t noticed before. But she didn’t mind.
For now, that was enough.
Chapter 14: Flutters Among Friends
Chapter Text
The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue across the school courtyard. The air smelled faintly of freshly mown grass and chalk dust, carrying the lazy energy of a Friday afternoon. Students were slowly packing up, chattering about weekend plans, while a few teachers lingered at their desks, sorting papers or finishing last-minute announcements.
Darin adjusted her glasses, bending over her notebook as she stuffed the last of her pens into her bag. She had stayed behind to help Dao and a few other classmates tidy up their classroom—an unofficial little “clean-up club” that had formed spontaneously.
Dao was quietly arranging the remaining stacks of notebooks, her movements smooth, precise, and utterly composed. Even when bending to place a chair under the desk or carefully stacking papers, she emanated a kind of effortless elegance that made Darin’s chest ache with an odd, warm tension.
“You’re overthinking it again,” Dao said softly, glancing up at Darin with a faint smile as she noticed Darin fumbling with a loose corner of her notebook.
Darin blinked, cheeks warming. “I… am?” she asked, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.
Dao tilted her head slightly. “Yeah. You always try to make everything perfect. Sometimes, it’s okay to just—leave it be.”
Darin’s fingers froze for a moment before she stuffed the notebook into her bag. “I’ll… try,” she muttered, her voice softer than she expected.
A sudden voice cut through the quiet room. “Hey, Darin! Dao!”
Darin looked up and saw Phu jogging toward them, his sporty backpack slung over one shoulder, a bright grin plastered on his face. Behind him, Lin, smiling politely but with a subtle air of curiosity, trailed a few steps behind, carrying a small notebook and a pencil case.
Dao’s eyebrows lifted minutely at the sight of Lin. “Hi, Lin,” she greeted, voice warm but neutral.
Lin nodded. “Hi, Dao.” She shifted slightly, as though sizing up the space around Dao, Darin, and Phu.
Phu bounded up to Darin with his usual energy, brushing past her a little too quickly. “So… I was wondering if you could come watch my game this Friday?” he asked, eyes bright. “I’m counting on my most supportive friend being there!”
Darin blinked, caught off guard. “Uh… me?”
“Yeah!” Phu leaned casually on a nearby desk, his grin unrelenting. “I mean, it’s not like it’s a huge deal, but you’re always cheering for me, right? Right?”
Dao’s gaze flicked between Phu and Darin. Something about Phu’s tone—the easy charm, the lighthearted energy—made Dao’s lips curl into a small, almost imperceptible smile. She could see the way Darin stiffened slightly at Phu’s presence, adjusting her glasses nervously.
“I… I can try,” Darin said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Her words were hesitant, her tone careful, as though she were still navigating the delicate terrain of social interactions she hadn’t fully embraced yet.
Phu’s grin widened, and he gave her a playful nudge. “Perfect! Oh! And you should bring Dao too—she can cheer me on. Right, Dao?”
Dao blinked, surprised by the direct request. A quiet warmth bloomed in her chest at the thought, though she quickly masked it with a small, polite smile. “I… sure, I can come,” she said softly.
Lin’s eyes twinkled with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. “Then I’ll come too,” she said, adding herself into the plan. “It’ll be fun to see you all in action.”
Darin felt her chest tighten slightly at how naturally Dao agreed to join, how calm she looked agreeing to a group plan. For a fleeting moment, Darin wondered if this was how life had been meant to be—simple, full of warmth and small interactions, free from the shadows she had carried before traveling back.
Phu clapped his hands together. “Awesome! So it’s a date—well, a group outing! Friday, don’t bail!”
Dao chuckled softly, a gentle, light sound that made Darin’s heart flutter more than it should have. “We won’t,” Dao replied.
As Phu and Lin wandered closer to the door, Dao turned to Darin. “You’ve been helping clean the classroom a lot,” she said quietly, almost as if sharing a small secret. “You’re… really dependable.”
Darin froze, the words hitting her differently than they would have before. “I… I guess I try?” she murmured, her tone uneven. “I… like helping.”
Dao tilted her head slightly, eyes softening. “I can see that. And… I appreciate it. You make things easier, Darin.”
For a moment, Darin felt a strange, warm tension coil in her chest. It wasn’t romantic—not yet, she told herself—but it was the first time she felt her presence truly matter to someone else, to Dao.
Dao moved to straighten a chair near the window. “You know, the classroom feels… nicer with you around,” she said lightly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Her smile was quiet, almost shy in its subtlety.
Darin looked down at her hands, fidgeting with the zipper of her bag. “I… I just… I like being here. With… you,” she admitted, the words escaping before she could stop herself.
Dao paused, the faintest blush rising to her cheeks. “With me?” she repeated, her voice soft.
Darin nodded quickly, wishing she could vanish into the floor. “Yeah. Just… being around you makes… things… easier.”
Dao’s lips twitched upward, a small, shy smile that Darin couldn’t stop staring at. For a moment, they lingered in the quiet classroom together, the noise outside fading to a background hum.
“Then I’m glad,” Dao said finally, her voice light, like a whispered secret carried by the wind.
Just then, the classroom door opened and Phu poked his head back in. “You guys ready? We’re grabbing something to drink before the weekend, it’s too hot to wait.”
Darin blinked. “Oh… uh… yeah. Sure,” she said.
Dao nodded softly. “Let’s go.”
They followed Phu and Lin out into the bright afternoon sunlight. The heat hit them immediately, warm and slightly sticky, and Darin instinctively reached for the zipper of her jacket.
Phu noticed immediately. “You look like you’re about to melt!” he exclaimed, grinning. “Wait here, I’ll get something cold for you.”
Before Darin could respond, Phu had already jogged off toward the cafeteria stand, leaving Darin standing awkwardly next to Dao and Lin.
Dao glanced at Darin, eyes softening. “I can… hold your bag, if you want,” she offered.
Darin shook her head quickly. “N-no, it’s fine…” Her voice was soft, slightly flustered as she adjusted her glasses.
Dao smiled faintly, brushing past Darin to help lift her backpack from the strap. The contact was fleeting, subtle—but enough to make Darin’s chest tighten with an unfamiliar warmth.
Lin leaned in slightly, holding a small bottle of water for Dao. “You’ll need to drink this before Phu finishes his marathon to get us our drinks,” she said lightly, her tone playful.
Dao chuckled softly. “Thank you, Lin,” she replied, taking the water. Her eyes flicked briefly to Darin. There was something unspoken in that glance—a quiet warmth, a feeling she hadn’t yet named.
Phu returned moments later, carrying two iced teas and a soda, his grin unrelenting. “Ta-da! One for this cutie right here,” he said, handing Darin the iced tea.
Darin took it cautiously, the cold condensation cooling her palms and making her realize just how flustered she had become. “Thanks,” she murmured, her voice soft.
Phu leaned closer, lowering his voice slightly. “Friday, remember. You, me, Dao… and Lin. Gonna be fun!”
Dao’s smile softened, a quiet warmth lingering on her lips. “Looking forward to it,” she said lightly.
As they walked back toward the courtyard, the sun dipping lower behind the school building, the four of them laughed and joked, their footsteps mingling on the warm concrete. Darin’s heart felt lighter than it had in months, but she kept reminding herself: Dao didn’t know yet. She didn’t know about her feelings, about the future she remembered.
Dao’s gaze flicked toward her, soft and warm, and Darin felt that familiar pull in her chest—the one that had started the first day they met and hadn’t left since.
And for the first time in this timeline, Darin realized just how much she wanted to keep this warmth, this quiet happiness, intact.
She would protect it, nurture it, even if it meant pretending it was just friendship for now.
Because right now, that was enough.
And as Phu and Lin continued their playful chatter ahead of them, Darin and Dao walked a little closer, shoulders brushing slightly, sharing quiet laughter that belonged just to them.
The weekend—and the Friday game—waited. And perhaps, just perhaps, it would be the start of something even brighter, even warmer, between the two of them.
The school bell rang, echoing through the corridors like a signal for freedom. Darin adjusted her backpack and stepped out into the bright sunlight, feeling the heat immediately pressing against her skin. Dao walked beside her, calm and composed as usual, but Darin noticed a slight crease of concentration on her friend’s brow—the subtle tension of someone used to being aware of her surroundings.
Phu jogged up beside them, a cheerful grin plastered across his face, and gave Darin a playful nudge. “Hey! That’s enough sweating; you look like you just ran a marathon.”
Darin blushed and fumbled with her bag. “I… it’s just hot, that’s all.”
Dao’s gaze followed the exchange. Her lips curved into a small, subtle smile. Something about Phu’s bright gestures—the easy confidence, the teasing, the small attentions—drew her attention. She didn’t feel jealousy, not quite, but a tiny flicker of awareness that made her heart beat a little faster.
“Thanks,” Darin said softly, trying to keep her composure while taking a careful sip.
Phu grinned, leaning casually on the fence beside them. “You’re welcome. But seriously, your bag looks heavy.” Before Darin could protest, he had already grabbed it, holding it effortlessly over one shoulder. “Here, I’ll carry this for you.”
Darin’s eyes widened. “I—I can manage—”
“Nope,” Phu interrupted, his tone playful but insistent. “I insist. Don’t ruin the perfect post-lunch walk by carrying heavy stuff.”
Dao’s eyes followed them both, noticing the way Phu moved with ease, how his presence enveloped Darin with this natural, effortless charm. Her heart skipped a beat—not for herself, but for Darin. It was strange, subtle, and warm all at once. She shifted slightly closer to them, just enough to hear the light banter between the two.
“So… you’re really coming Friday, right?” Phu asked Darin as they walked. “I mean, you said you’d try, but I want a firm yes.”
Darin laughed nervously. “I… okay, I’ll come. I’ll cheer for you.”
Phu’s grin widened. “Perfect. I knew you’d be a good cheerleader. You just have that… vibe.”
Dao raised an eyebrow slightly at the use of the word “vibe.” She felt a strange warmth seeing Darin laugh so freely, the ice from her usual shyness slowly melting under Phu’s bright energy. And yet, she couldn’t help the small pang of protectiveness she hadn’t fully acknowledged before.
They reached a shaded area near the school gate, and Phu held the gate open for Darin with exaggerated politeness. “Ladies first,” he said, winking at her.
Darin couldn’t help but laugh, feeling lighter than she had all day. “Thanks… again.”
Phu shrugged casually. “Hey, it’s nothing. I just can’t stand seeing you suffer in the heat.”
Dao chuckled softly to herself, the sound barely audible over the busy street outside. She noticed how every small act—the iced tea, the bag, the playful teasing—built a quiet tension. It wasn’t dramatic, not yet, but it was a current of attention flowing around Darin that Dao was now fully aware of.
“Alright, alright,” Phu said, adjusting his backpack. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Don’t get lost on the way home.” He waved enthusiastically, then jogged off, leaving Darin with a light flush on her cheeks.
Dao gave her a gentle smile. “He seems… nice.”
Darin blinked, slightly confused. “Uh… yeah, I guess.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, laughing nervously. “He’s… well, he’s Phu.”
Dao’s eyes softened. “I noticed how… thoughtful he was.” Her voice was quiet, yet it carried a small weight. It wasn’t jealousy—it wasn’t that—but an awareness that the ease between Darin and Phu could affect the rhythm of her own growing feelings.
Darin shook her head, dismissing the thought. “It’s nothing, really. He’s just… friendly. That’s all.”
Dao didn’t press. She simply nodded, letting the thought linger.
Dao, Darin, and Lin continued walking toward the small park across the street, the three of them settled under a wide, leafy tree. The sunlight dappled across their faces, and a gentle breeze carried the scents of grass and distant flowers. Lin handed Dao a small snack, and Dao’s eyes briefly met Darin’s, sharing a quiet, unspoken connection—like a gentle reassurance that they were here, together, in this moment.
Darin felt the air between them settle into a soft rhythm. She could relax here, in this small domestic bubble, without worrying about the future or the timeline. Phu’s energy had injected a playful brightness into the day, but here, with Dao and Lin, it was quieter, more personal.
Dao shifted slightly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Her fingers lingered for a moment near her cheek before letting it fall naturally. Darin noticed the small movement, the delicate way Dao seemed to exist in her own calm space, and felt a flutter she couldn’t quite name.
“Do you… want some water?” Darin asked, pulling a bottle from her bag. She extended it toward Dao, careful to maintain a gentle distance.
Dao’s eyes softened. “Thank you, Darin."
Darin smiled faintly, brushing her fingers against the bottle as Dao took it. The touch was electric, though subtle, and Dao’s cheeks tinged with warmth. She laughed softly, a quiet sound that only Darin seemed to hear fully.
The afternoon drifted lazily on, filled with small gestures. Darin adjusting Dao’s notebook when it slipped, Dao passing Lin a pen, Lin playfully nudging Dao when she laughed. Darin’s attention, however, remained mostly on Dao—every smile, every movement, every little expression that spoke volumes without words.
By the time they started walking back toward the school, the shadows were growing longer, stretching across the path in the golden glow of late afternoon. Darin carried her own bag this time, trying to keep the small awkward tension from building too much in her chest. Dao walked slightly ahead, humming softly to herself, her presence a gentle, constant comfort.
“So… Friday,” Darin said carefully, trying to sound casual. “Phu… he’s counting on us for the game.”
Dao glanced over her shoulder at her, the faintest warmth flickering in her eyes. “Sounds like fun,” she said softly. “I’ll be there.”
Darin smiled, the tension in her chest easing slightly. For now, it was just a simple plan; a school game, a sunny afternoon, friends walking together. The domestic comfort of shared moments, laughter, and small attentions filled the space between them.
And yet… even in this calm, Dao couldn’t help but notice the little ways Phu had treated Darin today—the drinks, the bag, the playful insistence. Each small gesture was like a ripple that spread through the quiet surface of her feelings, hinting at the complexities to come.
Darin, for her part, didn’t realize the subtle tension forming in Dao’s gaze, only feeling the quiet satisfaction of having shared this day, this ordinary moment, with her friend.
The future was still unwritten. The Friday game promised laughter, cheering, and the potential for sparks to fly. But for now, the afternoon ended with the comfort of walking home side by side—soft smiles, shared warmth, and the gentle rhythm of two lives slowly weaving together.
Chapter 15: Courtside Hearts
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The morning air was unusually bright, carrying the tang of excitement that seemed to ripple through the school. The announcement had been made yesterday the big basketball game, Phu’s team against their rivals, would happen today. And not just a few students were paying attention—half the school seemed to be buzzing about it.
Darin adjusted the collar of her shirt nervously, tugging slightly at the oversized fabric. She had changed into the special team shirt that Phu had handed out the day before. It was a bright, cheery orange, emblazoned with the school emblem and Phu’s number on the back. Everyone in their small group had it—Dao, Lin, Phu, even a couple of friends from other classes. Darin felt self-conscious, not because she disliked the color, but because she wasn’t used to standing out so much.
“Hey, look at you! All dressed up for the game,” Lin teased lightly, leaning against the doorframe. Her grin was playful, the teasing not mean-spirited but knowing enough to make Darin fidget.
“I—I’m fine,” Darin mumbled, adjusting the hem again. “It’s just a shirt.”
Dao, standing nearby, had also put on hers. She looked… effortlessly composed, the way she always did, even in something as casual as a team shirt. Darin couldn’t help but notice how the sunlight glinted off Dao’s hair, the way her shirt hung perfectly on her shoulders. It was irritatingly effortless.
“Lin!” Phu’s voice cut in from behind them, cheerful and loud. He jogged up to the group, sweat already glistening slightly on his forehead from his early morning warm-up. “You guys ready? Everyone’s wearing the shirts?”
“Yep!” Darin said a little too quickly, straightening herself. She tried to appear casual.
Dao nodded calmly, serene as always. “Of course. We wouldn’t miss it,” she said, her voice soft but carrying a quiet confidence that made Darin’s heart skip.
Phu’s eyes lit up when he looked at Darin. He grinned, reaching into his backpack. “Here,” he said, handing her a small towel. “Hold onto this for me, yeah? I might need it later.”
Darin blinked, taking it. “O-okay… sure.” She felt a heat rise in her cheeks that had nothing to do with the morning sun.
Lin leaned closer, whispering with a mischievous glint in her eyes, “See? I told you. He’s paying attention.”
Dao’s expression didn’t change, but she was watching. Carefully. Subtly. The corner of her lips twitched just slightly, but she looked away before anyone could notice.
As they walked to the gym, students began to gather, the buzz growing louder. A small group of Phu’s classmates had already staked out seats near the court, waving, cheering, and calling out to him. Darin stayed close behind, awkwardly fidgeting with the towel in her hands, feeling the stares of other students. Dao, beside her, was calm, composed, effortlessly radiant even in casual team attire.
Phu, meanwhile, had already noticed the small group. He waved energetically, calling out, “Darin! Over here!”
Darin hesitated a moment, then followed him to the front of the bleachers. Phu gave her a thumbs-up and winked, his grin bright and effortless. Dao trailed behind them, standing a few steps back, observing the interaction quietly.
“Is he always this… enthusiastic?” Darin whispered to Dao, still adjusting the shirt nervously.
Dao shrugged slightly, eyes still on Phu. “Sometimes,” she said, a hint of amusement in her voice.
The gym started filling quickly. Students were talking in clusters, laughing, cheering, waving banners. Whispers started circulating.
“Is that Phu’s girl?”
“They’re wearing matching shirts.”
“He keeps looking at her…”
Darin’s stomach knotted. She looked down at the towel in her hands, trying not to blush, while Dao silently observed the whispers, her expression unreadable but attentive.
Lin leaned in, nudging Dao gently. “See? Even the rumors are already starting.”
Dao barely glanced at her. “I’m aware,” she said calmly. Then her gaze flicked toward Darin, and a small warmth blossomed inside her chest. She couldn’t explain it yet—it wasn’t quite jealousy, not in a dramatic way—but she felt… protective.
Darin clapped awkwardly, trying to cheer loudly enough to match the energy of the crowd, but her heart was thumping so hard she thought it might leap out of her chest. Dao stood nearby, watching the scene unfold. She smiled faintly at Darin’s enthusiasm, but there was a subtle tightening in her shoulders she didn’t quite recognize yet.
The game began. The ball bounced rhythmically, sneakers squeaked against the polished wood, and the players moved with precision and speed. Phu darted across the court, scoring a quick basket almost immediately. Darin cheered loudly, clapping and stomping her feet, forgetting herself for just a moment. Dao watched her, feeling a small warmth spread in her chest—Darin looked… happy, genuinely happy, and that made her heart flutter slightly.
Phu kept glancing toward the stands, his eyes scanning until they landed on Darin. He grinned, then passed the ball expertly, signaling to a teammate before sprinting again. After another successful play, he jogged over to the sidelines during a break, catching his breath.
“Darin!” he called, holding out his water bottle. “Here, you can keep this for me. Gotta hydrate!”
Darin took it, flustered. “O-oh… thanks.” She tried to hand it back quickly, but Phu shook his head, insisting.
“Keep it. You earned it—cheering like that!” he said, playful and confident, his grin wide.
Dao’s attention flicked between Phu and Darin. She noticed the slight flush on Darin’s cheeks, the way her hands trembled ever so slightly. A quiet, subtle pang stirred inside Dao—a feeling she didn’t want to name yet.
The game resumed, the crowd’s energy rising. Phu’s team moved with coordinated precision, and Phu’s quick reflexes and strong plays drew cheers again. Darin clapped and cheered, her excitement visible, and Dao’s eyes lingered on her, quietly observing.
Lin leaned close to Dao, whispering, “You see that? He’s… totally into her. And she’s… well, clearly enjoying it.”
Dao’s lips pressed together briefly, forcing a calm exterior. She tried not to focus too much on it, but she couldn’t help stealing glances at Darin, who was now fully immersed in cheering and shouting encouragement.
By halftime, Phu’s team was leading comfortably. The crowd erupted when he scored yet another basket, and Darin’s cheers were the loudest. Phu jogged toward the sidelines again, wiping sweat from his forehead. He looked at Darin, and a playful, flirty grin crossed his face.
Dao, standing slightly behind, observed the interaction. She felt something stir inside her chest—an unfamiliar warmth mixed with curiosity and a tiny edge of… unease. She was trying not to overthink it, trying to ignore it, but she could feel it simmer quietly beneath her calm exterior.
After the half-time break, Phu jogged off the court, dripping with sweat, his shirt clinging to his torso. He made a beeline straight to Darin, ignoring the cheering students around him.
“Darin,” he panted, smiling sheepishly. “Could you… um, help me wipe this off? I’m melting here.”
Darin blinked. Wipe sweat. For him. Her hands trembled slightly as she took the small towel Phu handed her. “O-okay…” she stammered, brushing the dampness from his forehead with careful, precise movements.
Dao, sitting a few rows behind, watched every movement. The tilt of Darin’s fingers, the slight pink in her cheeks, the soft focus in her eyes—it was all too obvious, too noticeable. Dao felt that twinge again, the warmth curling in her chest. Her shoulders stiffened slightly, but she tried to keep her posture relaxed, eyes forward.
Lin leaned closer, whispering teasingly, “Careful, Dao. She’s literally touching him. You don’t look happy about it.”
Dao’s grip on her bag tightened. “I’m fine,” she said quietly, forcing a smile. She wasn’t upset. Not really. Just… cautious. Observant. She noticed things. And maybe she noticed more than she wanted to admit.
By the last quarter, Phu’s team was clearly ahead, and the crowd’s energy reached its peak. Darin was on her feet again, clapping, shouting encouragements, laughing at Phu’s exaggerated celebratory moves. Every time he caught her gaze, he winked or pointed in mock victory, and every time Dao’s attention returned to Darin, she noticed the small blush creeping across her cheeks.
Finally, the whistle blew, signaling the end of the game. Phu’s team had won. The crowd erupted into cheers. Darin jumped, clapping as loudly as she could, and even Dao couldn’t help but join in, the smile on her face slightly warmer now.
Phu jogged over to Darin immediately, out of breath but glowing with victory. “We did it!” he exclaimed. “And you were cheering like a superstar. I swear, your support added ten points to my score.”
Darin laughed, adjusting her glasses. “I think it’s your skill, not me.”
“Maybe,” Phu said, leaning closer. “But moral support counts. You can’t deny it.”
Dao watched, noticing the playful closeness between them. She forced her smile, pretending to be absorbed in the crowd around her, but her attention kept flicking to Darin. She felt something stirring—a flutter, a quiet ache, a curiosity she couldn’t name yet.
Phu grabbed his water bottle and offered it to Darin. “Here, hydrate. You’re soaked in excitement, it’s contagious.”
Darin accepted, hands brushing his slightly as she drank. The simple contact made her pulse quicken, though she dismissed it quickly as just part of cheering too hard.
Lin leaned toward Dao, whispering, “See? Told you. She’s smitten… and so are you.”
Dao’s heart skipped. She shook her head, forcing a laugh. “I’m fine,” she said, louder this time, but her eyes kept darting toward Darin.
After the game, the group started moving toward the exits. Phu offered his arm to Darin. “Come on, I’ll carry your bag,” he said, a playful smile on his face.
Darin hesitated, then handed it over. She hadn’t expected it, but she didn’t protest.
Dao’s eyes flicked toward the small gesture, noting the closeness, the attention. A tiny, quiet jealousy, unspoken, but present. She adjusted her shirt nervously, pretending to check her phone.
Lin nudged her, whispering, “Notice anything?”
Dao shook her head, though her gaze lingered. “Nothing,” she said, forcing casualness she didn’t feel.
Phu, oblivious, walked slightly ahead, chatting animatedly with Darin about the game, the crowd, and his plans for a celebratory ice cream after school.
Dao kept walking beside Lin, stealing glances at Darin’s laughing face, the way her eyes sparkled in excitement, the slight pink tinge on her cheeks. Something warm spread in Dao’s chest, subtle, tender, unfamiliar—but not unwelcome.
By the time they reached the school gate, the group split to go home. Phu offered Darin a ride on his bike since she had to carry her bag, joking about it being a victory lap.
“Seriously?” Darin asked, trying to hide her blush.
“Absolutely,” Phu said with a grin. “You earned it.”
Dao stayed behind, walking alongside Lin, quietly watching the pair. She didn’t want to show it, but a little pang of possessiveness stirred. Not jealousy—exactly—but something new she couldn’t yet name.
Darin climbed onto the back of Phu’s bike, holding tightly to the bag he carried for her. Phu pedaled smoothly, joking, laughing, leaning slightly to make her feel secure.
Dao sighed quietly, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. She didn’t move closer; she didn’t want to intrude. But her eyes followed Darin, noting the small gestures, the little laughs, the tiny touches. She noticed everything.
And in that quiet observation, she felt her feelings deepen—subtle, shy, and tentative—but unmistakably there.
For Darin, it was just a fun ride home. For Dao, it was a quiet revelation. And for both, the evening ended with a soft, lingering warmth that neither fully understood yet—but both would carry forward, lingering between the spaces of laughter, small touches, and unspoken emotions.
Notes:
Lin is definitely adding fuel to the fire but hey cute phu and darin moments am i right? *nervous* yall arent going to shame me for putting dao's rival.. right? im sure dao's gonna do something, she need to stand up. girly has to
Chapter 16: Quiet Study, Small Sparks, and Subtle Tensions
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The Saturday morning sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the quiet café near the park, scattering golden patches across the polished wooden tables. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked bread mixed with the faint scent of paper and ink from students’ notebooks and scattered textbooks. Dao and Lin were already settled at a corner table, the quiet hum of the café around them like a comforting background score.
Lin leaned back in her chair, smirking, fingers drumming lightly on the tabletop. “You know,” she began, eyes flicking toward Dao, “you really like her. Don’t try to hide it.”
Dao’s fork froze mid-bite of her pastry. She blinked, cheeks heating faintly, but she tried to look casual. “What are you talking about?”
“You,” Lin said, her smirk growing. “You keep glancing at her like she’s… I don’t know, the sun or something.” She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands, eyes sparkling. “It’s obvious.”
Dao fumbled with her napkin, twisting it between her fingers. “That’s not—It’s not obvious,” she muttered softly. “I’m just… noticing her. That’s all.”
Lin laughed lightly, shaking her head. “Noticing her? Come on. I’ve known you long enough. You notice things about people you… well, you like. Trust me. I’ve been there before.”
Dao frowned slightly, her fork hovering midair. “You mean…?”
“Yeah,” Lin said, softening her tone. “I liked you before. But I saw—obviously—you weren’t interested in me like that. So I didn’t push it. And now… I see you looking at someone else, and it’s kind of hilarious.”
Dao’s lips twitched in the corner, a small, reluctant smile. “Hilarious, huh?”
“Very.” Lin’s grin widened, teasing but gentle. “But hey, I’m not here to steal your thunder. Just… maybe don’t be too subtle, okay? Your crush is showing.”
Dao’s heart skipped slightly, but she looked down, pretending to examine her pastry. “I’m not sure I have a crush,” she murmured, though even she felt the warmth in her chest contradicting her words.
Lin nudged her lightly. “Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that. But mark my words, someone’s going to notice sooner or later.”
Dao simply smiled faintly, her thoughts drifting to Darin. Somehow, the mention of noticing brought a flutter of warmth she wasn’t ready to name.
Across the park, the sunlight was gentler, filtering through leaves and casting dancing shadows across the quiet library. Darin had arrived early, as usual, setting up her corner table with her notebooks, pens, and a carefully packed water bottle. Today was meant for studying—just her and Dao—but there was also an unspoken layer of anticipation; she hadn’t yet voiced it, but seeing Dao always brought a quiet sense of being on edge, in a good way.
Dao arrived shortly after, her calm, composed presence filling the space like sunlight pouring in through the windows. She waved softly at Darin, who returned the greeting with a small, awkward smile, quickly adjusting her glasses and settling her bag on the chair beside her.
“Morning,” Dao said softly, her voice carrying that natural warmth that always made Darin’s chest feel slightly tighter.
“Good morning,” Darin replied, and for a moment, there was silence. A comfortable, almost domestic silence, punctuated by the quiet scratching of pencils and the soft rustle of paper.
Dao opened her notebook, but her gaze lingered just a fraction longer on Darin as she began to write. Darin, oblivious to the way her heart reacted, was setting up her pens, arranging her notes with meticulous care. Both of them knew the rhythm of these study sessions by now quiet, peaceful, almost mundane—but every small action was laden with subtle significance.
Minutes passed in careful focus. Dao’s pen danced across her notebook as she solved math problems, occasionally glancing up at Darin to confirm her reasoning. Darin, completely absorbed in her own work, offered quiet nods, gentle murmurs of agreement when Dao asked a question. Each small interaction felt like a soft brush of warmth against the other’s day.
At one point, Darin accidentally knocked over her pen case, sending pens scattering across the table. Dao’s hands moved instinctively, gathering them with a calm efficiency.
“Here,” Dao said, handing the pens back to Darin. “Try not to let them escape next time.” Her lips curved into the smallest smile.
Darin’s hands paused in midair, fingers brushing briefly against Dao’s as she took the pens. A tiny spark—a flicker of electricity unnoticed by anyone else—passed through her. “Th-thanks,” she stammered, cheeks warming.
“Anytime,” Dao replied casually, eyes already returning to her own notebook. But in the quiet corner of her mind, she noticed how Darin’s fingers lingered a little longer than necessary, how she adjusted her glasses with a slightly distracted air, how her small, quiet focus seemed almost… endearing.
Just as the afternoon sunlight began to dip lower, Phu entered the library with his usual energy. He carried a sports bag slung over one shoulder and a bright grin plastered on his face. The moment he saw Darin and Dao, his eyes lit up.
“Hey, Darin! Dao!” he called softly, trying not to draw too much attention. “Mind if I…?”
Dao looked up, eyes narrowing slightly. Her posture shifted ever so subtly, a small protective edge forming. “I asked her first,” she said softly but firmly, indicating Darin. “So she’s staying with me.”
Phu froze, a mixture of amusement and slight defeat crossing his face. “Ah… got it. Maybe next time then,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender and leaving the area with a polite, good-natured smile.
Darin, still oblivious to the tension, barely registered what had happened. She merely looked up, curious, as Phu waved and exited. Dao, however, noticed every small movement—how Phu’s attention had shifted, how easily Darin had smiled at him, and the subtle warmth in her chest that stirred with quiet jealousy.
With Phu gone, Dao and Darin returned to their study session. The quiet hum of pages turning and pencils scratching became their background music. Dao found herself leaning a little closer than necessary, checking over Darin’s notes. Darin, still thinking of everything as simple friendship, offered gentle guidance, helping Dao solve a tricky equation.
Dao’s heart fluttered slightly each time, a warmth spreading that she couldn’t yet name. Darin remained steadfastly unaware of the depth behind those gestures, believing she was simply helping a friend—exactly as Dao assumed, making the bond quietly complex and layered.
By the time the sun was setting, painting the room in shades of amber, they packed their bags. Dao adjusted her bag strap, subtly keeping Darin close enough to notice, without being obvious.
As they walked out together, the air crisp with the evening breeze, Dao found herself stealing glances at Darin, subtle and careful. The world felt quieter with her there, even amidst the soft bustle of students leaving and the distant calls of vendors closing their stalls.
“I think I’m… glad we did this,” Dao said quietly. “Study together, I mean.”
Darin, adjusting her glasses and balancing her backpack, smiled softly. “Yeah. It was… good. Relaxing, even.”
Dao’s chest warmed at the simplicity of it. Nothing dramatic, nothing overt—but this was enough. The small, everyday moments, the subtle laughter, the quiet sharing—it all built a delicate foundation.
And as they stepped into the soft glow of the streetlights, Dao realized something simple, almost painful in its gentleness she was already caring more than she intended.
Darin, unaware of the stirrings in Dao’s heart, merely enjoyed the calm companionship of the evening. Their paths intertwined naturally, like two streams flowing alongside each other—subtle, quiet, and impossible to ignore.
Notes:
lin and dao's talk i immediately remember this meme. the sun and the sunshine protector. when is wish upon a star coming out. i need domestic fluff w pahnfond. dao's fighting back, yall cheer for dao.
Chapter 17: The Space Between Us
Chapter Text
The afternoon sunlight was warm, stretching lazily across Darin’s bedroom as she sprawled across her desk chair, phone in hand. Her notifications kept buzzing, and she reached over, scrolling through the messages. Four new pings greeted her. Phu, Lin, Dao, and a group chat ping she wasn’t sure she wanted to open first.
She started with Phu.
Phu: “Hey! What kind of chocolate do you like? Asking for, uh… research purposes 😅”
Darin blinked, reading the message twice. She had to fight the instinct to smile. It wasn’t the chocolate itself—though she liked dark chocolate—but the way Phu phrased it. Almost like he had rehearsed it, almost like it mattered a little too much.
She typed carefully, then hesitated. She didn’t want to overthink this.
Darin: “Umm… I like dark chocolate. Maybe with nuts? Why?”
Phu: “Perfect! I’ll make sure it’s not boring. Thanks, Darin! Can’t have my favorite person eating anything subpar 😎”
Darin froze for half a second, her cheeks warming. “Favorite person?” She tapped a few times, then quickly hit send.
Darin: “Haha, okay…”
(a/n: this oblivious lil dork darin, getting the attention of two popular people? teach me ur ways)
Next up, Lin’s message popped in.
Lin: “Heyyy. I see Phu’s at it again, trying to bribe you with chocolate, huh? Don’t let him fool you—he’s a smooth one.”
Darin chuckled lightly and typed back, careful not to overthink it.
Darin: “I guess? He just… asked what I like. I’m fine, though.”
Lin: “Sure, sure. If you say so."
Before she could respond further, Dao pinged in.
Dao: “Hey, do you want to study together after school? I figured we could go through that literature assignment. I’d rather not do it alone..”
Darin paused, staring at the message. Her thumb hovered over the keyboard. She glanced at the clock. Plenty of time before classes ended.
Darin: “Sure! That sounds good. Meet you by the library?”
Dao: “Perfect. See you there.”
Darin set her phone down, letting the subtle warmth of the conversation settle in her chest. Phu’s texts made her feel flustered, Lin’s teasing made her laugh quietly, and Dao’s message reminded her of the quiet, steady connection they shared.
The next morning, Darin arrived at school, her backpack slung over one shoulder. She walked toward the classroom, slipping in quietly before the bell rang. Dao was already there, seated near the window, books neatly stacked, hair falling slightly across her face. She looked serene, calm, almost impervious to the rest of the classroom chaos.
Darin sank into her seat beside Dao, letting out a small sigh. Even after all these time-travel resets and attempts to protect her, being near Dao still made her chest tighten in an almost unbearable way.
The teacher started the lesson on literature, voice calm and methodical. Darin followed along, occasionally jotting notes, but her eyes kept flicking to Dao. She noticed the faint rise and fall of her shoulders, the subtle brushing of hair behind her ear, the almost imperceptible shift in Dao’s posture as sunlight streamed through the window.
Dao’s eyes fluttered shut, resting lightly against her arm. Darin’s gaze softened. A streak of sunlight hit Dao’s cheek, highlighting the warmth of her skin and the faint curve of her lips. It was beautiful, innocent, perfect—and Darin immediately realized it might be slightly uncomfortable for Dao.
Without thinking, she lifted her notebook, angling it just enough to shield Dao’s face from the sun. Her movements were smooth, practiced, but entirely instinctive. Darin didn’t even notice the small gasp Dao made when the shadow fell over her face.
Dao’s eyes blinked open slowly, just a fraction. She tilted her head slightly, noticing Darin’s careful shielding. Her lips curved into the tiniest, softest smile, almost invisible, almost secret. She didn’t say anything—she didn’t need to.
The rest of the class passed in the quiet rhythm of scribbling pens, soft murmurs, and occasional coughs. Darin occasionally glanced at Dao, making sure the sunlight didn’t creep back onto her face. Dao, for her part, leaned back in her chair slightly, aware of Darin’s presence and the care it implied. The warmth in her chest wasn’t new—she had felt it in small, quiet doses before—but now, with the sunlight and the subtle attention, it deepened.
By mid-morning, a slight rustle came from the hallway as students changed classes. Darin and Dao remained, heads bent over their notes, immersed in the quiet togetherness. The air between them felt safe, small, intimate.
During the next break, Dao pulled her books closer to her chest, glancing at Darin with a hint of curiosity. Darin, caught off guard, looked up and met her gaze. There was no direct conversation, just the shared acknowledgment of presence—an unspoken communication that spoke louder than words.
“Do you want some water?” Darin finally asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Dao shook her head gently. “I’m fine, but thank you.” She glanced at Darin, a faint warmth flickering in her expression.
Darin nodded, smiling just slightly. “Okay.” She returned to her notes, though her hand hovered unconsciously near the edge of her notebook, as if expecting Dao might need her.
Outside, the sunlight shifted, the golden glow of late morning creeping across the floor. Dao noticed, tilting her head, the warmth brushing her cheek. She blinked slowly, resting her head lightly on her hand, aware that Darin was nearby—aware that the shadow had shielded her from the sunlight before.
Darin didn’t say a word. She simply adjusted her posture slightly, her movements careful, quiet, considerate. Dao’s heart fluttered at the thoughtfulness, the subtle attention, and the small, everyday intimacy of it all.
By lunchtime, their phones buzzed again—Phu, Lin, and even a few other classmates coordinating club activities. Darin glanced down at a new message from Phu.
Phu: “Hey, uhh Darin. Can I see you alone once I ask you out?"
Darin’s fingers hovered. She typed quickly, careful to be casual.
Darin: "Uhh.... sure? Where to?"
Phu: "Maybe by the gym, sounds good?"
Darin's fingers yet again hovered. Thinking if she should or not, but ofcourse, it's her friend. She can't just say no.
Darin: "I guess so... I'll see you around."
Ending with Phu replying with a GIF of a jumping cat. Which Darin giggled ever-so-lightly.
Dao’s phone buzzed beside her, but she didn’t look at it immediately. She tilted her head, letting the sunlight brush across her face, and glanced at Darin. A warmth bubbled inside her—a quiet awareness of how attentive Darin had become, how much care she carried in these small gestures. She couldn’t explain it fully yet. It wasn’t love, not in her mind—but it was close to something gentle and protective, and it made her heart beat a little faster.
The afternoon continued in calm rhythm. Lessons, small notes passed, quiet chatter with friends. Darin and Dao stayed close, the sunlight moving across the classroom in slow arcs. At one point, Darin reached over almost accidentally, nudging Dao’s book slightly to prevent a paperclip from slipping. Dao noticed, a small laugh escaping her lips.
“Thank you,” she whispered, not loud enough for anyone else to hear.
Darin’s face heated slightly, though she simply smiled faintly. “No problem.”
Dao’s eyes lingered on her, the smallest warmth forming in her chest, while Darin returned to her notes, blissfully unaware of the silent, tender acknowledgment.
As the bell rang for the end of the day, the students gathered their belongings, bustling through the aisles of the classroom. Dao tucked her books under her arm and glanced at Darin, who followed behind at a calm pace. Their shared walk to the school’s front gate was quiet, unhurried.
The wind picked up, stirring leaves across the courtyard. Dao adjusted her hair, glancing at Darin, who was busy checking her phone. A small, mischievous smile tugged at Dao’s lips. She tapped Darin’s shoulder lightly. "Thanks for helping me, I'll see you tomorrow," she said softly.
Darin looked up, eyebrows raised. “Tomorrow? Ah… right.”
Dao’s lips curved faintly. She didn’t press further. Just a hint of a reminder, a nudge of awareness, a subtle connection that only the two of them understood.
Of course Darin knows White Day was coming, but for her, it was still a normal day. Oblivious little Darin.
As they parted ways at the school gate, Darin’s chest felt lighter, warmer. She glanced back once, catching Dao’s gaze lingering on her. A quiet, delicate understanding passed between them. White Day was coming, small hearts and chocolate awaited, and their slow, careful journey of connection continued, subtle and unspoken, yet growing with every shared moment.
And in that gentle pause, the afternoon sunlight brushing over everything, both of them carried the same warmth in their chests—different, separate, yet quietly intertwined.
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W (Guest) on Chapter 16 Sun 14 Dec 2025 12:35PM UTC
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