Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

August hit, and there it is, school season.

Avery wasn't too thrilled about this, considering the laughter of their so called "friends".

When they first arrived to school, the school air hits their face, and the eternal chaos, crying and laughter begun. They wished they just stayed at home, but it was too late. Av slowly dragged their backpack to the newly renovated classroom, looked nothing similar to the classroom they used to study in their previous year.

The bell rang.

There, they met their homeroom teacher. At first sight, she seemed like a nice & sweet person, and totally looks nice and kind-hearted. This first day of school stuff wasn't too bad — Avery and their friends got to play and being a jerk almost all morning. They talked about some random stuff, like vacations, crushes, academical status and etc. But soon, Avery became tired, their friends talked about boys all the time and it made Avery became bored, considering that they don't like boys.

Then the homeroom teacher, Ms Xia, told them to go down and attend the ceremony (which is basically the school year opening). Avery grabbed their black jacket, then headed straight down.

The ceremony was held at the school's lobby. The seats were all prepared, each lined to the class they were prepared for. Avery took the last seat, holding their sketchbook, preparing to draw for the rest of this stupid ceremony, but then—

A girl walked past them. She was kinda short, her hair looked almost like a boy (It's a very short mullet) and she had a very beautiful face. Avery took a glimpse at her. She was what Avery wanted them to be, androgynous, cool, and gives off good vibes.

The ceremony begun.

The principal first talked about some random & boring stuff, which nobody listened to, and everyone just cheered because apparently the teacher told them to. Avery chatted a bit with their friends, and for some reason they felt the sleepiness running through their whole body, and decided to take a quick lil nap.

The ceremony ended.

The girl is still in their mind.

Chapter Text

The girl’s image lingered in Avery’s mind far longer than they wanted to admit.
That short mullet.
That sharp, calm expression.
That sense of… confidence, or maybe freedom.

They didn’t even know her name, yet her face floated up whenever Avery tried to focus on homework or conversation.

The next morning, school felt exactly the same — the gray sky, the squeak of sneakers in the hall, the faint smell of chalk and disinfectant — but Avery couldn’t help scanning every corridor.
Maybe they’d see her again.
Maybe it would be just coincidence.

And they did.
Down the corridor, surrounded by a few upper-classmates, laughing quietly.
Her laugh wasn’t loud or forced. It sounded real — like she didn’t need to perform for anyone.

It made Avery’s chest tighten. Something warm and quick fluttered under their ribs.

They didn’t even realize they’d stopped walking until someone bumped into them.
“Hey, Av, daydreaming already?” a voice teased.

Avery blinked and turned. It was Dona — short skirt rolled up, confidence practically radiating off her. She smirked, arms crossed.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. Zoned out,” Avery muttered.

Dona raised a brow. “Zoned out over who? Don’t tell me you already found a crush.”

Avery’s face heated. “No, I was just—”

“Relax,” Dona grinned. “You’re too easy to tease. Come on, homeroom’s starting.”

The morning passed in a blur of introductions and pointless worksheets. Avery doodled in the corner of their notebook while Dona whispered jokes beside them. She had this habit of pairing people up — calling them “aesthetic matches.”

At one point she nudged Avery’s elbow. “See those two by the window? Total main-character couple energy.”

Avery snorted softly. “You and your ships.”

“It’s a hobby,” she said proudly. “Maybe I’ll find you one someday.”

“Please don’t,” Avery muttered.

Dona only smirked wider.

When lunch finally came, Avery headed to the cafeteria with their usual group. The room buzzed with noise — trays clattering, gossip flying, someone playing music from a phone too loudly. Avery half-listened as Dona bragged about rejecting some boy who tried to flirt with her at the gate that morning.

“He thought calling me baby would work,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I told him I’m not on sale.”

Their friends burst out laughing. Avery smiled faintly, picking at their food. Dona was always like this — loud, flirty, untouchable. The kind of person who could walk through a storm and look perfect afterward.

Avery admired her confidence… but it wasn’t what they wanted.

Their gaze drifted across the cafeteria — and froze.

An.

She sat a few tables away, chatting with someone from her class, hands moving lightly as she talked. There was something magnetic about the way she existed — not trying to be cool, just being.

Avery stared until Dona snapped her fingers in front of their face. “Earth to Avery. You’ve been zoning out again. Who are you looking at?”

“No one,” Avery said too fast.

Dona leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “You’re blushing. Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not—”

“Uh-huh,” she sang. “Fine, keep your secrets. I’ll find out eventually.”

Avery rolled their eyes, but the heat in their cheeks didn’t fade.

After lunch, art class. The only period Avery actually liked. The teacher let them sketch whatever they wanted as long as they stayed quiet. Dona sat two rows away, whispering about how one of the boys was “too full of himself to be cute.”

Avery opened their sketchbook. The pencil moved on its own. Before they realized it, lines formed — soft jaw, cropped hair, gentle eyes.

An again.

They tried to stop, but couldn’t. Each stroke pulled her closer from memory.

A shadow fell over the page.

“Woah, that’s actually good,” Dona said, peering over their shoulder.

Avery flinched and slammed the sketchbook shut. “It’s nothing.”

Dona grinned like a cat. “That nothing looked suspiciously like someone.”

Avery didn’t respond.

“Fine,” Dona said, leaning back. “But if you’re secretly in love with a teacher, I’m judging you.”

Avery snorted despite themselves. “It’s not a teacher.”

“So it is someone!”

“Dona.”

“Alright, alright,” she laughed, raising her hands in surrender. “I’ll stop… for now.”

But the mischievous look in her eyes said otherwise.

The rest of the day blurred into quiet hours and restless thoughts. When the final bell rang, Avery packed up slowly, half-hoping to bump into An somewhere.

Dona tossed her bag over one shoulder. “You coming?”

“Yeah, in a sec.”

“Suit yourself. I’ve got somewhere to be.” She winked. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do — which leaves you a lot of options.”

“Bye, Dona.”

Avery laughed under their breath as she left. Dona was impossible, but she made the days less heavy.

They wandered through the hall, sketchbook clutched in one hand. Outside, the sunlight hit the windows in gold streaks.

Near the bike racks, movement caught Avery’s eye.

An again. She was adjusting her helmet, hair catching the light just so. Avery froze behind a pillar, heart hammering like they’d just run a race.

For a moment, they considered it — walking up, saying something simple like Hey, I’m Avery. But their throat felt tight.

An climbed onto her bike, pushed off, and disappeared down the street before Avery found any words.

They sighed.

Maybe tomorrow.

They didn’t realize until they were halfway home that their hand had smudged pencil across the corner of their sketchbook — right over the unfinished lines of An’s smile...

Chapter Text

The next morning, Avery’s mind was restless. The previous day had replayed like a slow, silent movie — An’s laugh, the tilt of her head, the way she moved as if the world belonged to her. Every time Avery tried to focus on class or conversation, her face appeared in the corner of their vision.

They wished they could say something. Anything.
But what could they possibly say to someone they didn’t even know the name of?

During homeroom, Avery sat in the back, sketchbook open, flipping to a fresh page. Their pencil hovered, unsure of what to draw.

“Hey, Av,” Dona leaned over, eyes glinting with mischief. “Still staring at ghosts?”

Avery groaned. “No. I… I mean, I’m just thinking.”

“Thinking about ghosts?” Dona teased, nudging their shoulder. “Or maybe the mysterious girl again?”

Avery froze slightly. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on,” Dona said, wiggling her eyebrows. “She’s been walking through the hallways like she owns the place. You’re staring every time she passes. Don’t act innocent.”

Avery buried their face in their notebook. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I prefer ‘observant,’” Dona said, leaning back in her chair. “Anyway, you do need to know her name, don’t you?”

That gave Avery an idea. All morning, they wrestled with the thought. During a short break between classes, they shuffled nervously toward the homeroom teacher’s office. Ms. Xia was grading papers when Avery peeked in.

“Uh, hi, Ms. Xia,” Avery said quietly.

Ms. Xia looked up, smiling. “Avery! What’s up?”

Avery fidgeted with the strap of their backpack. “Um… could you… tell me the name of that… grade 9 girl?”

Ms. Xia raised a brow. “Grade 9 girl?”

Avery hesitated, then added, “She’s… short hair, kind of… cool-looking. I just wanted to know her name.”

Ms. Xia chuckled softly. “Ah, I see. That’s An. She’s in grade 9. She’s very focused on her studies — don’t bother her too much, okay?”

“Thanks,” Avery whispered, clutching the piece of information like treasure. Their chest felt lighter, but their heartbeat quickened. An.

It was just a name, but it made her feel a little closer, somehow. Avery tucked the name into their memory as if sealing a secret.

Back in class, Avery tried to pay attention, but every time someone moved in the hallway outside, their eyes flicked toward the window. Every voice they overheard sounded like it could belong to An.

At lunch, they sat quietly with their sketchbook, barely listening to the conversations around them. Dona plopped down beside them with a dramatic sigh.

“You’ve gone full ghost mode,” she said, opening her lunch bag. “You’re pale, you’re quiet, you’re… brooding. I could almost call this ‘artistic’ if it weren’t so obvious.”

Avery huffed. “I’m fine.”

“Nope,” Dona said with a smirk. “You’re not fine. You’ve got it, don’t even try to deny it. And it’s obvious I need to supervise this… situation.”

Avery groaned, flipping open their sketchbook to a blank page. Dona leaned over to peek.

“Drawing her again?”

“Maybe,” Avery muttered.

Dona leaned back and clapped her hands softly. “Good. At least something productive. But remember — she has a name now, Av. You can say it silently if you want. ‘An.’ Works nicely.”

Avery smiled faintly. An.

The rest of the morning dragged, filled with routine: lectures about chemistry, math exercises, and group work where Avery’s friends talked endlessly about boys they liked, their upcoming weekends, and everything Avery couldn’t relate to. Dona occasionally nudged them with a teasing grin.

By the final period, Avery had almost forgotten about An for a few minutes — almost. They were packing their bag when the hallway outside the classroom buzzed with students moving to their next class. Avery felt a sudden, unexpected shift in the air — the faint echo of a familiar rhythm.

Someone was walking quickly toward them.

And there she was.

An.

Avery froze, heart hammering in their chest. She was coming down the hallway, books clutched to her chest, moving with that effortless, calm confidence that made the world feel a little smaller and brighter all at once.

Avery stepped to the side, trying to make themselves invisible. But fate had other plans.

Their backpacks collided.

“Oh!” Avery said, stepping back.

An blinked, looking down at them with an expression that was polite, but distant. “Sorry,” she said softly, adjusting her bag.

Avery’s face flushed. “Uh… no, I—”

But the hallway was crowded. Other students brushed past, talking loudly, laughing, oblivious. Avery could feel An’s presence lingering for a fraction of a second, then she was gone, swallowed by the stream of students.

Avery stood there for a long moment, breath shallow, hands gripping the straps of their backpack.

I know her name now, they thought. I know it… and I didn’t even get to say anything.

By the time Avery reached the cafeteria, their sketchbook was open again. Pencil in hand, they tried to capture the memory of the collision — the soft tilt of her head, the gentle, polite way she had said “sorry.” The lines on the paper trembled slightly, just like their own pulse.

Dona plopped down beside them again, completely aware of the lingering tension in Avery’s body. “What happened?” she asked with a grin.

“Nothing,” Avery muttered.

Dona raised a brow. “Uh-huh. Sure. Let me guess — you bumped into her?”

Avery’s mouth opened, then closed. They had no words.

“Thought so,” Dona said smugly. “You two are… what? Invisible acquaintances? You couldn’t even say hi?”

“It was crowded,” Avery said, defensive.

Dona smirked. “Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that. Anyway, don’t worry, I’ll help you. I have a whole plan for your… ship. Don’t you worry.”

Avery groaned again, flipping the page of their sketchbook to a blank sheet.

Later, during the last bell, Avery wandered toward the art room to finish some sketches. They felt the pull of the hallways like magnets, every passing student a potential glimpse of her. But she didn’t appear again.

The pencil moved on its own, drawing her posture, the tilt of her shoulders, the faint curve of her jaw. An. They wrote her name beneath the sketch, almost like a secret mantra.

It was strange — having her name now made everything feel slightly more real, yet still impossibly far away. Avery didn’t even know if she would remember the collision, let alone notice them in the hall again.

They packed up and headed outside, the late afternoon sun slanting through the trees. The hallway was quiet now, almost empty, but Avery couldn’t stop thinking about her — the brief brush of shoulders, the soft apology, the way she made ordinary school life feel… extraordinary.

Dona called from across the courtyard. “Av! Don’t melt in the sunlight, come on!”

Avery lifted their backpack and jogged toward her friend. But in the back of their mind, An’s name kept repeating softly.

An.

It was simple. It was real. And it was enough to make Avery want to come back tomorrow, just to see her again.

Chapter Text

The morning felt heavier than usual. Avery carried their backpack over one shoulder, sketchbook tucked under the other arm, and tried not to think about the plan they had spent the previous night rehearsing in their head.

Today, for better or worse, they were going to tell someone.

Not the whole school. Not An. Just… their classmates. People who weren’t strangers, people who had already seen them at their worst, and — hopefully — wouldn’t make it worse.

When the first bell rang, Avery sat at their usual spot, pencil tapping absentmindedly against the corner of their sketchbook. Dona plopped down next to them, a grin stretching from ear to ear.

“What’s with the dramatic energy this morning?” she asked, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Avery shifted uncomfortably. “Nothing. I… just have something to say today.”

Dona leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially. “Ooh, something serious, huh? Spill it. Or should I guess?”

Avery groaned, wishing they could disappear entirely. “I’m not sure if I— I mean…”

Dona waved a hand dismissively. “Relax. You’re doing fine. Just… don’t chicken out.”

By mid-morning, Avery had gathered enough courage to speak. The classroom was buzzing with students fidgeting through a math exercise, paper shuffling, pencils scratching. Avery waited for a natural lull, then cleared their throat.

“Uh… everyone,” Avery started, heart thumping in their chest. “I… I just wanted to say something. About… someone.”

Heads turned. A few curious murmurs spread. Dona’s grin widened, sensing that this was their cue to enjoy the show.

Kelly, sitting near the window, raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Someone special?”

Avery nodded, cheeks flushing. “Yeah… I… I kind of have a crush on someone.”

A beat of silence. Then:

Ori, whispering to Dulcie, smirked. “Ohhh, this is getting interesting.”

Dona, unable to restrain herself, clapped her hands softly. “Finally! Took you long enough.”

Kelly leaned forward, eyes bright. “Who is it? You can tell us, we won’t tell anyone else.”

Avery hesitated. Their stomach flipped nervously. “It’s… An.”

The name slipped out, soft but definite. The moment it did, Avery immediately wanted to swallow it back.

There was a beat of quiet, then a chorus of reactions.

Dulcie tilted her head, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “An? Ohhh, I like this already. She’s… mysterious. And kind of… cool, right?”

Ori grinned. “Totally. You two would look good together.”

Kelly laughed softly. “You’ve got good taste. She’s amazing. But… wow, you actually admitted it. Brave of you.”

Dona leaned back in her chair, smirking. “Brave, or completely insane. Either way, I approve. And now… mission shipping begins.”

Avery buried their face in their hands, mortified. “Dona— please, don’t—”

But Dona only waved them off, her grin widening. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m harmless… mostly.”

For the rest of the morning, Avery tried to focus on lessons, but every glance from the group reminded them of what they’d just revealed. Kelly, Ori, Dulcie, and Dona exchanged knowing looks, whispering quietly, occasionally glancing at Avery with exaggerated curiosity.

At lunch, the four of them cornered Avery by the cafeteria tables.

“Okay,” Kelly said, leaning on the edge of the table. “We need details. Tell us everything about An.”

Avery’s eyes widened. “I… I don’t even know that much about her!”

Ori laughed, a soft, musical sound. “That’s perfect. The mystery makes it more fun.”

Dulcie clapped her hands together. “C’mon, tell us what you like about her. Personality, style, anything. We need ammo for… research.”

Avery groaned. “I… I just like… the way she is. She’s… confident, calm, kind… I don’t know. I can’t explain it.”

Dona leaned forward, tapping Avery’s shoulder. “Oh, I get it. The quiet crush type. You’re all dreamy eyes and secret sketches.”

Avery’s face heated even more. “I… I don’t sketch her that much. Just… sometimes.”

Dona winked. “Sure, sure. We all know.”

Kelly laughed softly. “It’s fine, Avery. You like her. That’s cute. I approve.”

Ori leaned back, crossing her arms with a smirk. “And don’t worry, we’re going to help you. We’ll make sure she notices you… in her own time.”

Dulcie added, “Exactly. Think of us as… shipping consultants.”

Avery groaned, hiding their face in their hands again. “I said don’t—”

Dona interrupted with a laugh. “Relax, this is fun! You’ve been quiet about it for too long. Now we can plan, observe… and ship responsibly.”

After lunch, the group of four hovered near Avery as classes resumed.

In history class, Avery kept doodling in their sketchbook, tracing lines that resembled An’s profile. Dona leaned over to peek at the sketch, whispering, “Yep. Confirmed. She’s your muse now. We can work with this.”

Kelly, glancing over Avery’s shoulder, nodded. “Keep it discreet. Not everyone needs to know about the shipping yet. But… it’s exciting.”

Ori grinned. “The suspense is killing me. I hope she notices soon.”

Dulcie tilted her head. “Patience. But we’ll make sure she does — eventually.”

Avery just sighed, wishing the world could stay quiet for five minutes so they could breathe without this constant attention.

By mid-afternoon, Avery was wandering the hallways, clutching their sketchbook like a lifeline. Their classmates had all dispersed to their own classes. The school corridors hummed with noise — lockers slamming, shoes squeaking, laughter echoing.

And then…

A collision.

Avery turned a corner too quickly. Books and papers scattered as they bumped into someone.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” Avery exclaimed, scrambling to gather the mess.

“Hey, it’s fine,” said a familiar voice.

Avery froze. Their heart slammed in their chest.

It’s her.

An.

She looked down at them, calm and polite as ever, adjusting her bag without a hint of annoyance. The hallway around them moved in a blur. Students passed, chatter buzzing, oblivious to the moment.

Avery opened their mouth, but nothing came out.

An gave a small, polite nod. “No worries.”

And just like that, she moved on, disappearing into the crowd.

Avery exhaled shakily, standing frozen in the middle of the hallway. Their sketchbook felt suddenly heavier in their hands, like it contained all the weight of their thoughts and feelings.

They whispered her name under their breath: “An…”

After that, Avery tried to focus on the remaining classes, but their mind kept replaying the collision. Their friends had already started whispering from across the hall.

Dona sidled up with a mischievous grin. “You two met officially! Kinda. Technically. Half a second.”

Kelly giggled. “It counts, Avery. You existed in the same space at the same time.”

Ori added, “And it’s adorable. She didn’t yell at you or anything. That’s a good sign.”

Dulcie clapped softly. “This is exciting! I can’t wait for the next encounter.”

Avery groaned, hiding their face in their hands. “Stop. Please.”

Dona only laughed, leaning on Avery’s desk. “Nope. Mission shipping has begun. And we’re taking notes.”

That night, Avery lay in bed, sketchbook open on their lap. Pencil hovered over the page, but they couldn’t draw. Thoughts of An — the collision, the polite nod, the gentle presence — kept replaying like a movie on loop.

I told them today, Avery thought. And she doesn’t even know. She has no idea.

But something about it didn’t feel sad. Something about telling their friends, even if it made them feel exposed, made Avery feel… lighter.

Dona, Kelly, Ori, and Dulcie were already plotting ways to help, ways to make An notice — ways Avery would never ask for. And somehow, that felt less scary than hiding everything forever.

Avery finally put pencil to paper, sketching the curve of her shoulder from memory. Beneath it, they wrote softly:

An.

The name repeated like a heartbeat, slow and steady, promising the quiet thrill of possibility.

And for the first time that day, Avery didn’t feel alone.

Chapter Text

The morning air was crisp but quiet, the kind of day that made Avery’s nerves feel even heavier than usual. Every step through the hallway toward the cafeteria vending stand — or in this case, the teacher who sold drinks — felt like a small marathon.

Today, Avery had decided: they would do something bold, something that could subtly, quietly show An that they cared.

A matcha latte.

It was simple, harmless, and the teacher who ran the small drink stall at the end of the hallway — Mr. Tan — was discreet enough to deliver it without Avery having to walk up to An themselves.

Perfect, Avery thought. I won’t have to talk to her. I’ll just… do it.

Of course, “perfect” did nothing for their racing heart.

Dona had, of course, been in full cheerleader mode since the moment Avery admitted they were going to go through with it.

“You’re actually going to do it!” Dona had shouted as soon as they arrived at the school courtyard. “I knew you had it in you. Today’s the day, Av!”

“I don’t know if I—” Avery muttered, fidgeting with the strap of their backpack.

“Don’t think. Just act,” Dona said, bouncing slightly on her toes. “We’ll be your backup. We’ll cheer. We’ll distract. We’ll… everything. You’re not alone.”

Kelly leaned casually against a pillar, smirking. “This is… adorable. I didn’t expect you to be this bold.”

Ori’s deep, tanned face reflected the sunlight as she grinned. “You got this, Av. You can do this. Go get her matcha latte!”

Dulcie, as always, lingered quietly behind, mask in place, giving a small, subtle nod. Avery appreciated her calm support more than words could express.

By the time they reached Mr. Tan’s small drink station, Avery’s hands were trembling slightly. The line was empty, thankfully, leaving them a quiet moment to plan.

“Good morning, Mr. Tan,” Avery said, voice slightly shaky.

Mr. Tan looked up, smiling warmly. “Morning, Avery! The usual?”

“No… um… actually, can you make a matcha latte… for An? Please?” Avery whispered, almost too quietly.

Mr. Tan raised an eyebrow, mildly amused. “An? Grade 9?”

“Yes,” Avery said, cheeks flushing. “Please… just give it to her. She… I think she’d like it.”

Mr. Tan chuckled softly, nodding. “Got it. Consider it done. I’ll hand it to her when she comes by. Discreetly.”

Avery exhaled, feeling a tiny weight lift off their chest, but their legs suddenly felt like jelly. They hadn’t expected the adrenaline rush of actually taking the first step.

Dona, Kelly, Ori, and Dulcie had been hovering nearby like a protective wall. The moment Avery stepped back from the stall, Dona whispered loudly: “Mission Matcha Latte is in progress! Stand by for cheering positions!”

Avery groaned, wishing they could disappear behind a locker, but Dona had already claimed the “front-line spot,” fists pumped in encouragement.

“Hide behind us,” Kelly suggested with a grin. “You don’t have to watch her reaction… yet. We’ll handle the danger zone.”

Avery hesitated, then sank behind the small group, hiding most of their face behind Dona’s back. Their hands fidgeted with the strap of the backpack, and their chest hammered in an anxious rhythm.

Dona elbowed them gently. “Look at you, blushing already. Cutest thing ever. Are you sure you’re not going to faint?”

“I… I’m fine,” Avery mumbled, voice barely audible.

“Sure,” Dona said, smirking, leaning closer. “Totally fine. Totally not completely flustered. I see the color rising in your cheeks, Av.”

Kelly and Ori snickered softly, clearly enjoying the show. Dulcie stayed quiet but her subtle nod seemed to say she understood exactly how Avery felt.

The bell rang. The students in the courtyard began to disperse, walking toward their next classes. An appeared at the edge of the crowd, walking toward the vending stall. Her movements were calm, almost serene, as if the chaotic bustle of students didn’t touch her at all.

Avery’s heart leapt into their throat.

“Okay… breathe,” they whispered to themselves, fidgeting behind the group.

Dona elbowed them again. “Breathe? Breathe later. Watch and learn. This is the good part.”

Avery tried to focus, eyes on An’s back as she approached the stall. Mr. Tan handed her the cup with a polite, “For you.”

An looked at it curiously, then glanced around. Her eyes briefly caught Avery’s hiding spot behind Dona and the group. Avery’s cheeks turned bright red, hands gripping the edge of Dona’s backpack like a lifeline.

She smiled faintly, raising an eyebrow as if silently questioning the mysterious gift.

Avery froze, heart hammering. She saw me. But… not really. She just… noticed the cup. Not me.

Dona whispered in their ear: “Yep. She noticed it. She did see you. Cute little blush monster.”

“Shut up,” Avery hissed, ducking further behind the group.

Kelly leaned closer, whispering with a grin: “Look at her! She’s examining it like it’s a treasure. That’s a good sign, Av.”

Ori added, pointing subtly, “And you’re hiding like a tiny mouse behind us. Perfect stealth technique.”

Dulcie, quietly, gave a small thumbs-up from behind her mask. Avery’s heart lifted slightly, comforted by her quiet support.

A few boys in the class, passing through the courtyard, noticed Avery huddled behind the group, cheeks bright red.

“Hey… Av, why are you blushing?” one of them called out, raising an eyebrow.

Avery froze, glancing nervously at Dona and the others.

Dona quickly waved her hands, feigning ignorance. “Oh… just… the sun is really bright today, right?”

Kelly nodded, smirking, “Yeah, must be the heat.”

Ori added, “It’s probably nothing. Let’s go, boys.”

Dulcie didn’t say a word, just offered a small, knowing smile. Avery was grateful — the boys would never know the truth.

Meanwhile, An took a careful sip of the matcha latte. She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing in thought, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “This… is really good,” she said softly, almost to herself. “I didn’t expect this.”

Avery, still hiding behind the group, felt their chest tighten. They hadn’t spoken a word to her, but just seeing her reaction — the faint smile, the subtle appreciation — made their stomach twist in a mix of relief and nerves.

Dona clapped softly behind them. “See? Positive reaction. Mission accomplished!”

Avery groaned into the back of Dona’s jacket. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“You’re blushing! I am living for this,” Dona teased, poking them gently.

Kelly laughed softly. “I think she liked it too. You did well, Av.”

Ori grinned, giving a little fist pump. “She’s sipping it like a queen! You should be proud.”

Dulcie’s quiet nod and masked smile reminded Avery that not everyone had to shout their approval.

The next few minutes were a delicate dance. An held the cup, swirling it lightly, looking around, and then lifting her gaze toward Avery’s hiding spot. Avery ducked instinctively, cheeks flaming.

She might have seen me, Avery thought. Or maybe just the cup. Either way, she knows.

Dona leaned forward again. “Yep. She noticed. You’re a nervous wreck behind us, and she sees something.”

“Shut up,” Avery whispered, voice shaking. “Just… stop.”

Kelly and Ori snickered. “It’s adorable.”

Even Dulcie, quietly, gave another small nod, and Avery realized they weren’t being mocked — they were being supported.

After a few moments, An walked off, matcha latte in hand, sipping lightly as she disappeared toward the courtyard benches. Avery stayed behind the group, hands trembling, trying to calm their heartbeat.

Dona elbowed them. “See? You survived. And she has a drink. That’s huge!”

Avery exhaled shakily. “I… I can’t believe I did that.”

Kelly smiled. “You did. And it went well. She liked it. That’s all you can ask for.”

Ori added, “And we’ll be right here for the next move. Don’t worry.”

Dulcie gave a soft nod, eyes smiling behind her mask. Avery finally allowed themselves a small, relieved smile.

By the time class resumed, Avery’s hands were still shaking slightly, sketchbook clutched tightly. Every time they thought of An sipping the matcha latte, their cheeks burned again.

Their friends teased them relentlessly, of course.

“You’re never going to live this down,” Dona said, leaning close.

Kelly smirked. “Good thing you’re cute when you blush.”

Ori laughed, “She smiled at you! She actually smiled!”

Dulcie, quietly, simply nodded.

Avery groaned, hiding their face again, but the warmth in their chest was undeniable.

I did it, they thought. And she liked it. Maybe… maybe tomorrow I can try again.

Chapter Text

The morning air was cooler today, the kind that made the school courtyard feel fresh and lively. Avery’s stomach churned with a mix of nerves and excitement as they walked toward the teacher’s small drink stall once again. Today wasn’t just about the drink — it was a matcha latte and a snack, something thoughtful and small, but enough to maybe brighten An’s day.

Avery’s friends had, unsurprisingly, already sensed the mission before they even spoke.

“Big day today!” Dona whispered, practically bouncing in place. “Double delivery! Matcha latte and snack. You’re going for maximum points!”

Avery groaned. “I don’t even know if she’ll notice…”

“Of course she’ll notice!” Dona said, smacking their back gently. “You’re obviously blushing already. That counts for something.”

Kelly leaned against the nearby pillar, smirking. “You look like a tomato hiding behind us. It’s adorable.”

Ori grinned. “The chocolate goddess sees you trembling behind the shield. Go, Av!”

Dulcie quietly adjusted her mask, giving a subtle nod of encouragement. Avery felt a small, comforting warmth in that gesture.

At the drink stall, Mr. Tan greeted Avery with a cheerful smile.

“Back again, Avery? Another order?”

“Yes,” Avery muttered, shuffling nervously. “Could I get a matcha latte… and, um… a snack for An, please? Just… give it to her. Discreetly.”

Mr. Tan chuckled. “So, another secret admirer mission. Got it. I’ll hand it to her when she comes by.”

Avery’s hands shook slightly as Mr. Tan prepared the order. The snack was neatly wrapped, and the latte steamed softly in the paper cup.

“I… I hope she likes it,” Avery whispered, almost to themselves.

“You’re doing fine,” Kelly said quietly from behind, hiding her smirk.

Once the package was ready, Avery sank back behind the group, hiding like last time. Their face was already warm with embarrassment and anticipation.

Dona elbowed them playfully. “Look at you, blushing again. You really can’t hide it, can you?”

“I’m not—” Avery mumbled, trying to shrink further behind Kelly and Ori.

“Adorable,” Kelly whispered, a smile tugging at her lips.

Ori leaned forward, whispering, “The suspense is killing me. She’s going to notice this one too.”

Dulcie stayed quiet, eyes gentle behind her mask, offering her subtle support. Avery felt comforted by her calm presence.

Across the courtyard, An appeared, walking with her usual calm confidence. She glanced at the stall, eyes briefly catching the latte and snack as Mr. Tan handed it to her. She tilted her head slightly, studying the items with curiosity.

Avery’s chest tightened. She’s looking at it… maybe she’ll notice.

Dona whispered, “Yep. She sees it. Your secret mission is active, Av!”

Avery buried their face further behind their friends, heart hammering. “Shut up…”

An carefully picked up the latte and snack, turning slightly to examine them. “Hmm… matcha latte… and a snack? That’s thoughtful,” she murmured quietly to herself. Her eyes flicked around the courtyard for a moment, and Avery felt their stomach twist at the possibility that she might somehow notice them hiding behind the group.

Dona poked them gently. “She noticed! Or… at least she noticed the package. That’s good enough.”

Avery groaned, cheeks hot. “I can’t… stop blushing.”

Kelly chuckled softly. “You’re doing fine. Look, she’s holding it like it’s a treasure.”

Ori laughed, giving a fist pump. “This is going way better than last time.”

Even Dulcie gave a subtle thumbs-up behind her mask, and Avery felt their heart rate slow just a little, reassured.

Meanwhile, a group of 7th-grade girls walking past the courtyard noticed the exchange. They leaned toward each other, whispering, curiosity written all over their faces.

“Did you see that?” one of them asked. “Someone gave her a drink… and a snack!”

“Yeah! But who?” another asked, looking around.

They spotted Avery hiding behind a group of older students, blushing furiously. “That kid over there… is that…?”

“Shh!” one whispered. “Ask someone who knows!”

The girls approached Avery’s friends — Dona, Kelly, Ori, and Dulcie — trying to find out who had given the gift.

“Hey,” one of the 7th graders said timidly. “Who gave her that drink and snack?”

Dona grinned slyly. “Oh… no idea.”

Kelly leaned back, smiling innocently. “Really… we have no clue.”

Ori added with a smirk, “Yeah, just saw the latte and snack… that’s all.”

Dulcie gave a small nod, eyes careful behind her mask. The 7th graders were left puzzled, shrugging and whispering among themselves. Avery exhaled quietly behind the group, relieved that the secret remained safe.

An took a sip of the matcha latte, then unwrapped the snack carefully. She glanced around the courtyard again, curiosity in her eyes. “This is… really thoughtful,” she murmured. Her gaze briefly swept past Avery’s hiding spot, and Avery felt a flutter of nerves.

Dona whispered excitedly, “Yep! She saw something. Don’t faint now, Av!”

Avery buried their face in Dona’s back, unable to respond. “Stop… I can’t…”

Kelly chuckled. “You’re melting behind us. She didn’t even know it was you yet.”

Ori leaned in, whispering, “But you’re glowing. Literally. This is gold.”

Dulcie simply nodded, quietly supportive. Avery felt the warmth of their friends’ encouragement — teasing, yes, but genuine.

After a few moments, An walked toward a bench in the courtyard, holding the latte and snack carefully. Avery stayed hidden behind the group, hands trembling, heart racing.

Dona couldn’t help but whisper again: “You survived. And she has your gifts. That’s huge!”

Avery exhaled shakily. “I… I can’t believe I did it again.”

Kelly smiled softly. “You did. And she liked it. That’s all you can ask for.”

Ori grinned. “And we’ll be here for the next delivery. Don’t worry.”

Dulcie’s quiet nod was reassuring, and Avery finally allowed themselves a small, relieved smile.

By the time class resumed, Avery was still blushing slightly, sketchbook clutched in their hands. Every time they thought of An holding the latte and snack, their cheeks warmed again.

Their friends didn’t let up.

“You’re never going to live this down,” Dona teased, poking them lightly.

Kelly smirked. “She smiled at you! She liked it!”

Ori laughed. “Mission Matcha + Snack accomplished!”

Dulcie’s gentle nod reminded Avery that not all encouragement had to be loud or teasing — some support was quiet and steady.

Avery exhaled, chest tightening with nervous energy, but a small smile tugged at their lips. I did it. And she liked it. Maybe… tomorrow I can do it again.

Chapter Text

The morning sun had barely crested the rooftops when Avery found themselves standing outside the small teacher’s stall, heart hammering in a familiar rhythm. They clutched their sketchbook in one hand and a small coin purse in the other, fingers trembling slightly. Today was a new level of boldness: a keychain. A small, delicate token that Avery thought An might like — a charm they’d noticed An glance at a few times in the school store window weeks ago.

It wasn’t much, just a tiny silver keychain with a star-shaped charm, subtle enough to be thoughtful without being overbearing. But to Avery, it might as well have been a treasure chest, a universe condensed into one little trinket.

Dona, of course, had already positioned herself like a battle cheerleader, bouncing slightly on her toes.

“You’re actually going to do it!” she whispered, practically vibrating with excitement. “A keychain! This is peak romantic stealth mode!”

“I… I don’t know if—” Avery muttered, glancing at the quiet teacher’s stall and then at An, who wasn’t even in the courtyard yet.

“Don’t think,” Dona interrupted firmly. “Just… act. We’re your shield. We’re your cheerleaders. And if you faint, we’ll catch you.”

Kelly leaned against the nearby pillar, smirking. “You’re adorable. I didn’t expect you to keep this up.”

Ori, glowing in the morning light, nodded. “You’ve got this, Av. Go on. Make her day.”

Dulcie, as always, stayed quiet behind her mask, her gentle nod of encouragement giving Avery a small, steadying comfort.

At the stall, the teacher — Mr. Tan — greeted them warmly.

“Back again, Avery? Another surprise gift?”

“Yes,” Avery whispered, hands gripping the coin purse tightly. “Could I… um… get this keychain… for An? Please?”

Mr. Tan raised an eyebrow, but smiled knowingly. “Another anonymous delivery, huh? Got it. Don’t worry, she’ll receive it.”

Avery exhaled, trying to calm their racing heart. They handed over the coins and watched as the small keychain was carefully wrapped in a soft paper envelope, ready for delivery.

Behind their friends, Avery sank down slightly, hiding as best as they could. Their cheeks were already burning at the thought of An holding yet another gift.

Dona poked them gently. “Look at you! Blushing already. That’s the cutest thing ever. You can’t hide it.”

“I… I’m fine,” Avery whispered, burying their face behind Kelly’s shoulder.

Kelly smirked. “Sure. Totally fine. You’re a tomato right now, Av.”

Ori whispered conspiratorially, “She’s going to notice. She always notices.”

Dulcie simply nodded gently, quiet and steady. Avery felt reassured, even as their heart hammered like a drum in their chest.

Moments later, An appeared in the courtyard, moving calmly as usual, holding her books pressed lightly to her chest. She paused at the teacher’s stall, noticing the small envelope being handed over. Her eyes flicked curiously toward the package, tilting her head slightly.

Avery’s chest constricted. She’s noticing it…

Dona whispered, practically vibrating with excitement: “Yep! She sees it. Your stealth mission is working!”

Avery ducked further behind their friends, face blazing. “Shut up…”

Kelly chuckled softly. “You’re glowing back here, Av. Don’t faint yet.”

Ori leaned in, grinning. “Look at her. She’s examining it like it’s… important. Which it is!”

Dulcie’s quiet nod reassured Avery without adding more noise.

An carefully took the envelope, glancing at it with a faint, thoughtful smile. She opened it, revealing the keychain inside.

“Oh…” she murmured, lifting the charm carefully between her fingers. “This is… really cute.”

Avery felt their heart leap, watching her reaction. Their cheeks flamed hotter.

“See?” Dona whispered with a grin. “Mission success! And she’s smiling!”

Avery groaned softly, hiding further. “Stop… I can’t…”

Kelly leaned over, whispering: “She likes it. Look at her reaction. That’s all you need.”

Ori snickered. “And we’ll be here for the next delivery. Don’t worry.”

Dulcie, quiet but supportive, gave another subtle thumbs-up.

Just as Avery’s chest began to unclench and they dared to peek out, their phone buzzed sharply in their pocket. They pulled it out, frowning at the sudden alert.

It was a message from an unknown number — An.

“Please don’t buy me anything else.”

Avery froze. Their stomach plummeted. The air seemed to thicken, and for a moment, they couldn’t breathe.

Dona leaned over, eyes wide. “Uh… Av? What is it? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

“I… it’s… An,” Avery stammered, voice barely audible. “She… texted me… she said not to buy her anything else.”

Kelly’s smirk softened into something more concerned. “Oh… wow. That’s… kind of direct.”

Ori crossed her arms, lips pursed. “Well… that’s… clear. But… she’s okay, right?”

Dulcie’s eyes were gentle behind her mask. Avery felt their chest tighten further.

“Yes,” Avery whispered. “She’s okay… but… what does this mean? Did I do something wrong?”

Dona immediately leaned in, nudging Avery. “Nope. Not wrong. Just… she’s telling you her boundary. That’s all. Nothing bad.”

Kelly added, “Yeah. She liked the keychain, right? And she said it’s cute. That’s still good.”

Ori nodded. “Boundaries are normal. Don’t freak out.”

Dulcie, quietly, gave a reassuring nod. “It’s just… communication.”

Avery exhaled shakily, trying to calm the storm of thoughts in their head. Boundaries… right… okay… I can handle that.

Meanwhile, An’s attention returned to the keychain. She examined it carefully, turning it over in her hands. “This… is really thoughtful,” she murmured softly, almost to herself. “But… maybe just… no more gifts for now.”

Avery’s stomach twisted. The text had confirmed it. No more gifts.

Dona, sensing the rising panic, leaned closer and whispered, “Hey… it’s fine. You didn’t do anything wrong. You gave something thoughtful. That’s enough. And she likes it.”

Kelly smirked softly. “Yep. You’ll survive. Honestly, this shows she trusts you enough to set boundaries. That’s good.”

Ori chuckled. “And hey, at least she told you herself. That’s… better than guessing or awkward misunderstandings.”

Dulcie’s quiet smile behind the mask reminded Avery that some support was calm and steady, even if it wasn’t loud.

Avery sat behind the group, heart still racing. They wanted to crawl under the nearest bench, but instead, they clenched their sketchbook in their lap, hiding their flushed face.

Dona whispered teasingly, “You’re a mess. Look at you. Tomato red. Do you want me to carry you home?”

“I… I can’t…” Avery mumbled, overwhelmed.

Kelly leaned over, whispering, “It’s okay to be nervous. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Ori added, grinning, “And this just means next time… you gotta think smarter, not panic.”

Dulcie’s subtle nod reminded Avery that not every victory was loud or celebrated — some were quiet, gentle, and meaningful.

The rest of the school day passed in a blur. Avery tried to focus in class, but their mind kept drifting to the text from An. No more gifts. Boundaries. She likes the thought… but…

Every glance at An across the courtyard made their chest tighten. Their friends, of course, noticed immediately.

Dona leaned over during a quiet moment. “You’re going to explode if you keep thinking like that. Relax.”

Kelly whispered, “Boundaries don’t mean rejection. You’ve got this.”

Ori grinned, “And we’ll be here for the next plan. Don’t worry. You’re not alone.”

Dulcie’s gentle, masked smile offered the quietest reassurance of all.

That evening, Avery sat at home, sketchbook open but pencil paused. They thought of An, of the keychain, of the text, and of their friends’ unwavering support.

I didn’t do anything wrong, Avery told themselves. She liked the gesture… she just has limits. That’s fine.

They picked up their pencil and began to sketch quietly, trying to capture the calm expression An had when examining the keychain. Beneath it, they wrote softly:

Boundaries are okay. I’ll try again… respectfully.

And for the first time that day, Avery felt a strange combination of relief and determination.

Tomorrow, they thought. Tomorrow, I’ll see her again.

In reality An just doesn't want Av to waste their money. She was caring. Av never thought 'bout this.

Chapter Text

The morning sun filtered softly through the classroom windows, highlighting the buzzing energy of students preparing for the day. Posters lined the walls, colorful and cheerful, reminding everyone that 20/10 — Vietnamese Women’s Day — was today. Avery sat at their desk, fidgeting with their pencil case, trying to focus on the teacher’s lesson, but their mind was elsewhere.

They weren’t thinking about class at all.

They were thinking about An.

The plan had formed in Avery’s mind over the last week. A small bouquet of flowers. Something thoughtful, delicate, not overbearing, but significant enough for the day. They had imagined An’s smile, the way her eyes might soften when receiving a gift, and the subtle warmth in her reaction.

Avery’s chest tightened at the thought. Maybe today… I’ll be brave enough.

Dona, as expected, had already caught wind of the plan before Avery could even ask.

“You’re doing it, right?” she asked the moment Avery mentioned Women’s Day. “A bouquet! Maximum points in the Av-adorable meter!”

“I… I was thinking about it,” Avery muttered, cheeks heating slightly. “But… I don’t want to deliver it alone.”

Dona’s grin widened. “Of course not! We’ll go with you. Shield, cheer, distraction… you name it.”

Kelly leaned casually against a wall, smirking. “You’re blushing already. This is going to be… interesting.”

Ori’s deep tan gleamed under the sunlight as she nodded. “We’ll be your backup. No fainting allowed, Av.”

Dulcie, quiet as ever, simply gave a nod behind her mask. Avery felt comforted.

After class, the group gathered at the small flower stall near the school courtyard. Avery clutched their wallet nervously while Dona practically bounced in place.

“You’re actually going through with it!” she whispered. “A bouquet! She’s going to notice!”

“I… I hope she likes it,” Avery said, voice barely audible. Their fingers trembled slightly as they examined the small selection of flowers.

Kelly leaned closer. “It’s thoughtful, Av. Not too much, not too little. You got this.”

Ori added, “Pick something simple, but pretty. That’s the key.”

Dulcie’s quiet presence reminded Avery to breathe, and they finally selected a small bouquet of daisies and lilies, wrapped neatly in soft white paper. The flowers were delicate, fresh, and had a subtle fragrance that made Avery’s stomach twist with nerves.

Once the bouquet was purchased, Avery turned to their friends.

“I… I don’t want to go alone,” they admitted quietly.

Dona immediately grinned. “Then we go with you! Maximum backup mode engaged.”

Kelly smirked. “We’ll hide nearby, cheer silently, and make sure you don’t faint.”

Ori laughed. “And if anything goes wrong, we’ll distract her classmates.”

Dulcie nodded calmly, giving Avery a reassuring smile. I can do this, Avery thought. With them… maybe.

They arrived at the courtyard, the bouquet clutched tightly in Avery’s hands. Students milled about, chatting, laughing, and moving between classes. Avery’s heart thumped like a drum.

“Okay…” they whispered. “We just… give it to her. And… maybe… hide a little.”

Dona immediately scouted the best hiding spot — behind a row of benches near a tree. Kelly and Ori crouched down beside her, while Dulcie quietly stood to the side, ready to support Avery if needed.

Avery took a deep breath. “Okay… here goes nothing.”

An appeared in the courtyard, walking calmly with her books pressed lightly to her chest. She glanced around, perhaps noticing the mild chaos of the school on Women’s Day, but seemed entirely unaware of the waiting bouquet. Avery’s heart hammered in their chest.

Okay… just go. Just walk up. Don’t panic.

Avery stepped forward, holding the bouquet carefully. Their hands shook slightly. “H-hi… An,” they said softly, cheeks already warming. “Happy… um… Women’s Day.”

An’s eyes flicked to the bouquet, then up at Avery. She raised an eyebrow slightly, expression neutral.

“Thanks,” she said simply. “Thank you.”

Avery froze. Their chest tightened, mouth going dry. That was it. Not a smile, not a warm reaction, just… a dry, polite acknowledgment.

Dona whispered behind the tree, almost frantic: “Wait… that’s it? She didn’t… faint? Did she even notice you?”

Kelly leaned over, smirking. “She noticed. She took the bouquet. That counts.”

Ori added, grinning: “Yep. She said ‘thank you.’ You didn’t faint. Mission accomplished.”

Dulcie gave a subtle nod, reminding Avery that support didn’t need to be loud.

Avery’s face was blazing, and they instinctively shrank back slightly, still holding the bouquet. They could feel their friends’ eyes on them, teasing and supportive all at once.

“Blushing again,” Dona whispered, poking them gently. “You’re impossible. But cute.”

“I… I can’t…” Avery muttered, hiding part of their face behind the flowers.

Kelly snickered softly. “You’re a mess. But a cute one.”

Ori whispered, “And she got it! She noticed! That’s more than last time.”

Dulcie’s quiet reassurance helped Avery breathe just a little easier.

An held the bouquet carefully, looking it over briefly before placing it gently in her bag. “I’ll… take care of it,” she said, voice still flat but polite.

Avery swallowed hard, heart pounding. She’s not… smiling. Not really. Just… polite.

Dona leaned forward slightly. “It’s fine, Av! That’s still good. She noticed. That’s huge.”

Kelly added, “Yeah. You’re doing great. Just… breathe.”

Ori grinned, whispering, “We’ll be here for the next plan. Don’t worry. You’re not alone.”

Dulcie’s quiet nod reinforced the calm support that balanced the teasing energy of the others.

The courtyard buzzed around them, students moving between classes, laughing, chatting. Avery remained frozen for a moment, holding the space between them and An, trying to process the interaction.

She didn’t smile… Avery thought. But she said thank you. That’s… still something.

Dona poked them gently. “You’re going to overthink it. Stop. She noticed. You’re fine.”

Kelly whispered, “Boundaries and tone matter. You did your part. Don’t freak out.”

Ori added, “And we’ll be here for any next move. Relax, Av.”

Dulcie gave a subtle thumbs-up, quiet but reassuring.

After a brief pause, Avery quietly turned to retreat back behind the tree where their friends had hidden. Their legs felt weak, cheeks burning.

“You survived,” Dona whispered. “And she has the bouquet. That’s what matters.”

“I… I don’t know if that counts,” Avery muttered. “She barely reacted.”

Kelly smiled softly. “It counts. She said thank you. She took it. That’s acknowledgment. That’s enough.”

Ori laughed, giving a fist pump. “Plus, you didn’t faint! Win-win.”

Dulcie’s quiet smile reminded Avery again that not every victory needed fireworks — some were quiet, gentle, and meaningful.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of classes, whispered comments from friends, and stolen glances at An across the courtyard. Every time they thought of her holding the bouquet, Avery’s cheeks warmed anew, a mix of excitement, anxiety, and relief.

By the time they returned home that evening, Avery’s sketchbook was open. They picked up a pencil, trying to capture An’s neutral expression as she held the bouquet — the way she had taken it carefully, the subtle weight of her polite acknowledgment. Beneath the sketch, Avery wrote softly:

“Dry, polite, but still… she noticed.”

And underneath, in smaller letters:

Tomorrow… maybe a conversation. Not gifts. Words.

For the first time that evening, Avery felt a flicker of calm determination.

Boundaries noted. Respectful gestures first. Words next. I’ll try again.

Chapter Text

The sunlight slanted gently through the window, soft and warm, yet Avery barely noticed it. Their backpack was tossed carelessly onto the floor, shoes kicked off without thought. The day had been long — longer than usual — but nothing could have prepared them for what awaited at home.

They slumped onto their bed, phone already in hand, intending to scroll through messages, maybe check for a notification from a friend or a reminder about homework. Their fingers hovered over the screen for a moment, chest tightening in an anxious rhythm.

And then.

Avery froze.

An’s profile.

Gone.

Every social media platform — Instagram, Facebook, even the new school chat app — An’s name had disappeared. No messages, no stories, no posts, no way to contact her. Avery’s heart dropped into their stomach like a stone sinking into the deep ocean.

Blocked.

The word repeated in their mind like a cruel echo. Blocked. Blocked. Blocked.

Avery’s hands trembled. They couldn’t breathe. Their chest felt heavy, and for a moment, everything around them — the posters on their walls, the pencil case on the desk, even the soft sunlight — faded into nothingness. All that remained was the hollow, raw ache of rejection.

I… I did something wrong? Avery thought. I just wanted to… I wanted to give her something nice. A bouquet… a latte… a keychain…

Tears pricked their eyes, hot and sharp. Avery swallowed hard, trying to stop them, but the dam broke anyway. Warm tears streamed down their cheeks as the reality of An’s silent refusal sank in.

The world felt heavy. Their sketchbook sat open on the bed, forgotten, pencil untouched. Their chest heaved as sobs wracked their body. They felt small, insignificant, utterly invisible.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

They had been careful — thoughtful, respectful. Every gesture had been measured, every step tentative, every gift small and meaningful. And yet, here they were. Blocked. Shunned.

The phone slipped from their trembling hands onto the bed, sliding to the floor with a soft thud. Avery buried their face in the pillow, muffling the sobs as the room blurred around them.

Somewhere deep inside, a voice whispered: Maybe I wasn’t enough. Maybe she never… liked me at all.

The thought hit like a lightning bolt, sharper than anything they had felt before. Avery curled into themselves, knees to chest, rocking slightly, as though movement could somehow absorb the pain.

No… no, this can’t be happening, they whispered through trembling lips. It’s just… maybe… she’s… busy. Right? Maybe… it’s not permanent.

But the thought offered little comfort. The block was definitive, unyielding, silent in its cruelty. Avery felt hollow, abandoned, and heartbroken all at once.

A soft knock at the door pulled Avery out of their spiral.

“Av…?” came Dona’s voice, quiet but tentative.

Avery blinked through tears. “I… I don’t want to talk…” they whispered, voice hoarse.

Dona’s voice softened. “I know… but… I’m here. You don’t have to be alone.”

Avery sniffled, trying to pull themselves together. “I… I just… she… blocked me. Every… social media… every platform…”

The words were barely audible, but the weight behind them was immense.

Dona stepped into the room, quietly closing the door behind her. She moved closer, sitting on the edge of the bed, careful not to crowd Avery, but close enough to offer warmth and presence.

“It’s okay,” Dona said gently. “You don’t have to hide it. Cry. Let it out.”

Avery shook their head, trying to stem the tears, but the effort was futile. Sobs tore through them again, and they buried their face in Dona’s shoulder.

“You… you didn’t do anything wrong, Av,” Dona murmured softly, wrapping an arm around them. “You were thoughtful. You tried to be kind. That’s… that’s all anyone can do. That’s enough.”

Avery’s chest heaved as more tears spilled. “I… I just… I wanted her to… like me… notice me… care… I thought… maybe… she liked the gestures…”

Dona held them tighter. “I know. I know you did. And you’re brave for caring, for trying. That’s not nothing, Av. That’s… really big.”

Kelly and Ori’s voices whispered from the doorway, having followed Dona to provide backup support without overwhelming Avery.

“You’re okay, Av,” Kelly said softly, stepping closer. “She… she blocked you, yeah. But it doesn’t mean you’re not… you’re not amazing. You’re thoughtful. You’re kind. That counts for more than you think.”

Ori added with a grin, “And hey… sometimes people do things we don’t understand. Boundaries, misunderstandings… none of it is your fault. Promise.”

Dulcie quietly sat beside them, placing a hand gently on Avery’s arm, her silent presence like a soft anchor. Avery leaned into it, clinging to the reassurance of friends who refused to let them feel small.

Avery’s sobs slowed to shaky hiccups. “I… I just… I don’t understand…”

Dona rocked them gently. “You don’t have to understand right now. That’s okay. Let it hurt. Let yourself feel it. Crying doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.”

“I… I feel so… stupid,” Avery whispered. “I thought… maybe… she’d like me. I tried… so hard…”

“You tried,” Kelly said firmly. “And that’s all anyone can do. You were brave. You were thoughtful. That’s… important.”

Ori smiled softly. “And you’re not alone. You’ve got us. You’ll survive this… and you’ll come out stronger.”

Dulcie’s quiet nod reinforced it all. Avery buried their face again, taking in the warmth, the support, the knowledge that they were not entirely alone in their heartbreak.

Hours passed in the quiet, punctuated by soft reassurances and gentle words. Avery’s tears dried gradually, leaving their cheeks red and puffy, but their heart a little lighter.

“I… I feel… better,” Avery whispered finally. “A little.”

Dona smiled softly. “Good. That’s a start. Healing doesn’t happen all at once. But… you’ll be okay. I promise.”

“You’re… amazing, Av,” Kelly said with a smile. “Even if she doesn’t see it, we do. That counts.”

Ori nodded. “Exactly. And we’ll be here every step. Crying, laughing, messing around… whatever you need.”

Dulcie’s quiet presence, still beside Avery, reminded them that support came in many forms — loud, playful, quiet, steady. Avery felt gratitude welling up alongside the lingering heartbreak.

Eventually, Avery sat back, wiping the last of their tears, breathing deeply. The room felt quieter now, calmer. They glanced at their phone, still blocked, still empty, and accepted it as reality.

It hurts, they thought. It really hurts. But… I’m not alone. I have friends. I can… survive this.

Dona leaned back, squeezing their shoulder gently. “You’re going to be okay. Heartbreak is hard, but you’re strong. You’ll get through this. And when you’re ready… you’ll try again. Or maybe… someone else will come along who sees how amazing you are.”

Avery let out a shaky laugh, small but genuine. “Maybe… yeah… maybe.”

Kelly grinned. “That’s the spirit. And hey… next time, less crying, more scheming. Agreed?”

Ori laughed softly. “Absolutely. We’ll help. Every step.”

Dulcie nodded quietly, offering calm reassurance. Avery smiled faintly, feeling a small spark of hope through the lingering sadness.

Blocked, but not broken.

For the first time in hours, Avery felt the possibility of moving forward, step by step, with friends by their side.

Chapter Text

The morning sun had barely crested over the rooftops when Avery trudged through the school gates. Their backpack felt heavier than usual, not with books or supplies, but with a strange, unfamiliar weight: reflection.

For weeks, Avery had been caught in a cycle of excitement and anxiety over An — the gifts, the glances, the stolen moments. But after the last few weeks — the bouquet on Women’s Day, the dry “thank you,” and then the block on every social media platform — something had shifted.

It wasn’t that Avery didn’t like An anymore. That would have been impossible after everything they had felt and hoped for. But the intensity… the burning, dizzying obsession that had taken root in their chest… had softened. A little. Just enough to leave a strange emptiness, a quiet space that didn’t exist before.

Maybe… maybe I was holding on too tightly, Avery thought, walking through the crowded courtyard. Maybe… I need to… breathe. Look around. Not just obsess over An.

They rounded the corner toward their homeroom, shoulders hunched slightly, when a familiar figure caught their eye: Kelly.

She was leaning against the wall, chatting animatedly with Ori and Dona, her expression bright and easy. Avery blinked, and for a moment, they were caught off guard.

Wait… is she… cute? Like… really cute?

A strange warmth spread through their chest. Not like the fluttering panic of thinking about An, but something softer, something teasing, something unfamiliar.

Avery shook their head, cheeks heating. No, no, that’s… impossible. Kelly’s… she’s… straight, right?

They glanced away, trying to ignore the feeling, but it lingered stubbornly. It’s just… a passing thought. A silly… maybe admiration? Yeah. Admiration.

The day passed in a blur of classes, friends’ teasing, and the usual chaos of school life. Yet Avery found their thoughts returning again and again to Kelly — the way she laughed with her friends, the way her hair caught the sunlight, the small quirks that made her… endearing.

It was confusing, more confusing than anything they had felt with An. With An, everything had been direct, intense, emotional. With Kelly, it was subtle, quiet, almost… comforting.

Do I… like her? Avery asked themselves repeatedly, heart pounding at the mere question. Or is it just… curiosity? Admiration? Something… new?

They didn’t know. And part of them wasn’t ready to admit it, even to themselves.

After lunch, Avery wandered through the courtyard, sketchbook in hand, hoping to clear their mind. Their pencil traced patterns absentmindedly, lines looping in circles as they thought.

“Hey,” a voice called, breaking through the haze.

Avery looked up. A girl, slightly shorter than An, with warm brown eyes and a friendly smile, waved at them. Her hair was tied back in a practical ponytail, and she carried herself with confidence and ease.

“Um… hi,” Avery replied cautiously.

“I’m Ngan,” the girl said, extending a hand. “An’s told me a lot about you. Well… not too much, but… you know. She mentions classmates sometimes.”

Avery blinked, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and nervousness. “Oh… I… I’m Avery. Nice to meet you.”

Ngan’s smile was easy, friendly, and not intimidating. She tilted her head slightly. “You’re… quiet, right? I think An said you like to… observe more than talk?”

Avery’s cheeks warmed. “I… yeah. Something like that.”

Ngan chuckled softly. “Good. I like people who… notice things. Makes conversation more interesting.”

Over the next few minutes, Avery found themselves talking to Ngan in a way they hadn’t expected. Not about An, not about gifts, not about school drama, but small things: favorite books, sketching, hobbies, even the occasional joke about cafeteria food.

This is… nice, Avery thought. It’s comfortable. Not nerve-wracking. Not… heartbreaking.

Their chest felt lighter than it had in weeks, a little space opening in the place where An had dominated every thought.

Meanwhile, the friends were never far behind. Dona, Kelly, Ori, and Dulcie had been watching from a distance, teasing each other quietly.

“Look at Av,” Dona whispered, nudging Kelly. “Talking to… not-An. Who knew?”

Kelly smirked. “I see a spark. Maybe it’s harmless curiosity… maybe not. Interesting.”

Ori laughed softly. “She looks… calm. Focused. Not panicking. That’s new.”

Dulcie stayed quiet, eyes thoughtful. “It’s different. She’s discovering something… and it’s okay.”

Avery found themselves laughing quietly at something Ngan said — a small joke about the lunch menu — and felt a strange warmth. Not the panicked, high-strung warmth they had felt thinking about An. Something gentler. Something steady.

Maybe… it’s okay to… think about other people. Avery realized. Not forgetting An… not giving up entirely… just… noticing other possibilities.

The thought made their stomach twist in a mixture of guilt and excitement.

After a while, Ngan glanced at her watch. “I should probably head to class, but… it was nice talking to you, Avery. Maybe we can… hang out again sometime?”

Avery nodded, heart hammering softly. “Yeah… I’d like that.”

Ngan smiled warmly. “Cool. See you around.”

As she walked away, Avery’s chest felt simultaneously lighter and heavier — lighter because the conversation had been so easy, so comfortable; heavier because it made them realize how intensely they had been focused on An, and how much they had neglected the possibility of noticing someone else.

Walking back toward the classroom, Avery felt a small flutter of guilt. Is it… wrong to feel this way about Kelly? Or Ngan?

They didn’t want to admit it to anyone yet. Not Dona, not Kelly, not Ori, not Dulcie. Not even themselves entirely.

It’s just… noticing. Curiosity. Admiration. Maybe… feelings. Maybe not.

The words twisted in their mind, uncomfortable and confusing. But they allowed themselves to smile faintly. A little spark of excitement had returned — not from heartbreak or obsession, but from possibility.

Back in class, the friends gave Avery a knowing look. Dona whispered, “See? Life doesn’t stop. Other things… other people… it’s not bad.”

Kelly leaned over, smirking. “Interesting. Not-An attention. I like it. Keep it up.”

Ori chuckled. “She looks… different. More relaxed. Maybe this is what she needed.”

Dulcie’s quiet nod reminded Avery that support could be gentle and calm, not always teasing or loud.

By the end of the day, Avery sat quietly in the classroom, sketchbook open. Their pencil traced circles and swirls as they thought about An, Kelly, and Ngan.

An… I care about her. But… maybe not like before. Maybe… it’s okay to… think about others.

Kelly… she’s cute. And funny. Maybe… admiration? Something more?

Ngan… easy to talk to. Comfortable. Friendly. Maybe… a new connection?

Avery’s thoughts swirled, confusing and uncertain, but for the first time in weeks, there was space in their chest for more than heartbreak.

They smiled faintly, soft and uncertain, but genuine.

Maybe… it’s okay to explore. To notice. To feel. Step by step.

And for the first time that evening, Avery felt a small flicker of hope — fragile, tentative, but real.

Chapter Text

The afternoon sun slanted through Avery’s bedroom window, casting long shadows across the floor. Their desk was cluttered with notebooks, sketchbooks, and a few half-finished assignments, but Avery barely noticed. All of their attention was fixed on the glowing screen in front of them.

Their phone vibrated in their hands, a small, familiar buzzing that usually brought comfort. But today, it only reminded them of the truth they had already discovered: An had blocked them on every social media platform they knew.

Avery exhaled slowly, their fingers hovering over the phone screen. The idea came, impulsive and desperate: maybe, just maybe, there was another way. Another TikTok account. A backup.

It’s just… to say something. Just once. Maybe she’ll see it… maybe she won’t block this one.

They opened the second account, fingers trembling slightly. This account was barely used, a place where Avery occasionally posted sketches and funny memes. With a deep breath, they typed a simple, casual message:

“Hi, I hope you’re having a good day :)”

Heart hammering, Avery hit send, their stomach twisting with anticipation.

Seconds passed. Then a notification appeared.

Blocked.

Avery’s eyes widened. Blocked… again? Their stomach sank, and they felt a hot flush of embarrassment and frustration. They had expected maybe, just maybe, An might not notice. But no — instant, definitive, final.

Dona, who had been quietly observing from the doorway, raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? You thought she wouldn’t notice a new account?”

“I… I just… wanted to… say something,” Avery stammered, face flushed. “Just… one small message.”

Kelly smirked, leaning casually against the wall. “One small message turned into… getting blocked again. That’s… impressive, in a tragic sort of way.”

Ori laughed softly. “Yeah… impressive, but maybe it’s a sign, Av. Not every door stays open.”

Dulcie, quiet as ever, gave a subtle nod. “She’s setting boundaries. It’s okay to respect them. You don’t have to push anymore.”

Avery’s chest tightened. I… I just wanted… But the words faltered.

Avery hesitated, staring at their phone. I have one more account… maybe… maybe this one will work.

Despite the protests of their friends, Avery logged into the third account, fingers trembling. Their message this time was even more casual: a simple emoji, a small wave, nothing elaborate. Just… a hello.

They hit send.

Seconds later, the dreaded notification appeared again:

Blocked.

Avery’s heart sank. Their chest felt heavy, the weight of rejection pressing down with a suffocating force.

Dona groaned, exasperated but concerned. “Av… seriously… maybe it’s time to stop.”

“I… I can’t…” Avery muttered, voice breaking slightly. “I just… I wanted… she’s… I don’t know… maybe she’ll… see it… notice…”

Kelly shook her head, smirking but gentle. “Notice what? That you’re persistent to the point of desperation?”

Ori’s laugh was soft, teasing but sympathetic. “Persistence is good… up to a point. You’re crossing into… dramatic territory, Av.”

Dulcie, still quiet, placed a calming hand on Avery’s shoulder. “It’s okay to feel upset. But she’s blocking for a reason. Respecting that doesn’t mean you care any less. It means you care wisely.”

Avery sank back into their chair, phone slipping slightly from trembling hands. Tears pricked their eyes, a mix of frustration, heartbreak, and exhaustion. Why… why does this hurt so much?

They had been careful, thoughtful, and respectful in their gestures. Gifts, notes, flowers… even small messages. Yet every attempt had ended the same: blocked.

Maybe… maybe she really doesn’t want me around, Avery whispered to themselves. The thought was bitter, a sting of reality.

The friends gathered closer, forming a small circle of support.

Dona knelt beside Avery’s chair. “Av… you’re not alone in this. It’s okay to cry, to be frustrated, to be angry. But… chasing her online like this… it’s not going to help.”

Kelly reached over, squeezing Avery’s hand gently. “Yeah. You’re allowed to feel sad. But you’ve got people here who care about you. You don’t need her approval or attention to matter.”

Ori smiled softly. “Think of it this way: every block is her setting a boundary. And boundaries are important. Respecting them is… kind of heroic, in its own way.”

Dulcie’s quiet, calm presence was grounding. Avery leaned slightly into her, taking comfort in the stillness she offered.

Avery’s fingers trembled, gripping the phone tightly. I just… wanted… one connection… one little acknowledgment… But the reality was undeniable. An had made it clear: no contact.

The emotions hit hard: frustration, grief, confusion, and a strange sense of humiliation. The blocks were not personal attacks, not cruel jokes — they were definitive, absolute, and a line that Avery had to respect.

I can’t… I have to stop.

The words were whispered, barely audible, but this time they carried weight. Avery exhaled, trying to let go of the phone, trying to let go of the desperate need for recognition.

“Av…” Dona said gently. “It’s going to hurt. And that’s okay. But sometimes the bravest thing you can do is step back. Let someone have their space. That doesn’t mean you’re less… it just means you care responsibly.”

Kelly grinned, teasing lightly. “Yeah… and think about it: all that energy you wasted making accounts could go into… literally anything else. Homework, drawing, sleep…”

Ori chuckled. “Or… maybe noticing other people. Life doesn’t stop just because one person blocked you.”

Dulcie’s quiet nod reinforced the sentiment: boundaries are healthy. Respect is important. Avery didn’t have to chase someone who didn’t want to be chased.

Avery sat quietly, letting their friends’ words sink in. The tears had slowed, leaving their cheeks red and puffy, but their mind was clearing slightly. They still cared — deeply, painfully, stubbornly — but now there was a hint of clarity.

I can’t force her to like me. I can’t make her notice me. I can’t push through blocks and boundaries.

The thought was bitter but grounding. For the first time in days, Avery felt a small flicker of resolve.

The rest of the evening passed quietly. Avery didn’t open another account. They didn’t send any messages. Instead, they sketched in their notebook, wrote in their journal, and allowed themselves to process the heartbreak.

Dona, Kelly, Ori, and Dulcie stayed nearby, teasing lightly at times, but mostly offering a steady, supportive presence. Avery felt a small warmth in their hearts, a reminder that friendship and support could be just as meaningful as any acknowledgment from An.

By the time night fell, Avery’s thoughts had shifted slightly:

I can care about her. I can admire her. But I don’t have to chase her anymore. I can focus on myself, my friends… maybe even… notice other people.

The words were fragile, tentative, but for the first time in weeks, they felt a sense of control over their emotions, a small victory over heartbreak.

Avery placed the phone down, closing their eyes. The blocks still existed, the heartbreak still stung, but the weight was lighter. For the first time, they allowed themselves to think of tomorrow without panic, without obsession, without desperate longing.

Tomorrow… maybe a new start. A step forward. I don’t need to chase her anymore.

And with that thought, Avery finally felt a small, quiet hope — fragile, yes, but real.

Chapter Text

The morning sun slanted lazily over the school courtyard, casting soft golden rays across the students bustling to their classrooms. Avery walked slowly, backpack slung over one shoulder, head down in thought. Recent events with An had left a hollow weight in their chest, but the days had started to feel a little lighter — the edges of heartbreak softening, space forming in their thoughts for other people, other connections.

Yet, today, their attention was pulled elsewhere.

Kelly.

Kelly sat alone in the courtyard, her notebook open, a pen hovering in her hand, eyes fixed on the page but distant. Her usually bright and confident expression was gone, replaced by a tense frown, a subtle tremble in her shoulders. Even from a few meters away, Avery could see the weight she carried, a quiet cloud of frustration hanging over her.

That’s not… Kelly, Avery thought. She’s… sad. Really sad.

Avery hesitated, then walked closer, trying to figure out how to approach without startling her.

“Hey…” Avery’s voice was soft, careful.

Kelly looked up, eyes shadowed with worry. She forced a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh… hey, Av.”

Avery noticed the notebook and the scattered papers around her. “Everything okay?”

Kelly shook her head slightly. “Not… really. My grades… they’ve been slipping. I don’t know what happened. I’ve been trying, but… nothing’s working. I feel… useless, I guess.”

Avery blinked, heart tugging at the raw vulnerability in her tone. Kelly, the confident, teasing, self-assured Kelly, was quietly falling apart. And here she was, exposing it.

“Do… you want help?” Avery asked softly, sitting down beside her. “I mean… I could help with studying, or… just… listen if you want to talk.”

Kelly hesitated, biting her lip. “I don’t want to bother you, Av. You’ve got your own stuff…”

“You’re not bothering me,” Avery said firmly. “I want to help. I can listen too. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Kelly looked at them, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty crossing her face. Avery had never seen her like this — the walls she usually held up around herself were down, and she was… fragile, human.

Over the next hour, they sat together on a quiet bench in the courtyard, the chatter of classmates fading into the background. Avery listened carefully as Kelly spoke, softly, haltingly at first, then with increasing ease.

“I… I feel like I’m failing,” Kelly admitted, staring at the grass beneath her feet. “I study, I try, but… I just keep getting worse grades. And I don’t want people to think I’m… lazy, or… not trying. I hate feeling like this.”

Avery nodded, heart aching. “I get it. It’s… hard when you feel like nothing’s working. But that doesn’t mean you’re failing. It just means… maybe you need some help, or a new approach. And that’s okay.”

Kelly’s lips trembled slightly as she let out a shaky laugh. “You’re… really nice, Av. Not everyone would… sit and listen like this.”

Avery shrugged, cheeks warming. “I… care. And… you’re my friend. Friends help each other, right?”

Kelly nodded, looking at them with a faint, genuine smile. It wasn’t her usual teasing grin, but it carried warmth and trust — something rare and precious.

For the rest of the afternoon, Avery helped Kelly go over notes, solve problems, and review concepts she had struggled with. They worked slowly, patiently, Avery explaining in quiet, encouraging tones, offering hints rather than answers, helping Kelly build confidence.

“You’re… really good at this,” Kelly said after solving a problem correctly. “I don’t know why I can’t do it on my own.”

“You can,” Avery said gently. “You just needed… a little guidance. And it’s okay to ask for help. That doesn’t make you weak.”

Kelly blinked, biting her lip thoughtfully. “Thanks, Av… really. I… appreciate it.”

Avery felt their chest warm at her gratitude, a strange flutter in their heart. She’s… so cute when she’s like this. Vulnerable, honest… it’s… new. I like it.

They quickly shoved the thought away, cheeks heating. Focus, Av. She needs help. Not… daydreams.

Meanwhile, the friends were not far away. Dona, always alert, had noticed Avery spending the afternoon with Kelly. She whispered to Ori and Dulcie, “Look at them… helping her. Aw, Av’s heart is probably melting.”

Ori grinned. “Yeah… that’s… cute. And productive too. Finally using energy on something useful.”

Dulcie’s quiet nod added: This is good. Avery is learning to balance feelings and actions.

By the time school ended, Kelly’s mood had lightened slightly, not completely gone but softened. She thanked Avery again, this time with a small, sincere smile that made Avery’s chest ache in a pleasant, dizzying way.

“You really helped,” she said. “I feel… a little better. I can… maybe get back on track.”

Avery smiled faintly, heart warming. “I’m glad. You’ll be fine. I… I’ll help again if you want.”

Kelly’s grin returned, a little mischievous but softer than usual. “You’re… persistent, Av. I like it.”

Avery’s cheeks flushed, but they nodded, focusing on the accomplishment — not the fluttering feeling in their chest.

That evening, Avery reflected on the day in their sketchbook. They sketched Kelly quietly studying, a pencil tucked behind her ear, brow furrowed in concentration. Beneath the sketch, they wrote:

“She’s strong… but even strong people need help sometimes. I like being there for her.”

Avery paused, heart pounding slightly as their thoughts drifted. Do I… like her? Or do I just… care?

They didn’t have an answer yet. But for the first time, it felt okay not to know. What mattered was being there, listening, and helping.

Later, the friends gathered at Avery’s usual spot near the courtyard benches. Dona smirked, nudging Kelly playfully. “So… today was… productive. Av helping Kelly. Cute, right?”

Kelly rolled her eyes, but a faint blush tinged her cheeks. “Shut up, Dona.”

Ori laughed. “You two… this is new. Interesting dynamics.”

Dulcie gave her quiet nod, and Avery felt warmth at their silent approval. They were learning, growing, and slowly navigating feelings without losing themselves.

By bedtime, Avery sat at their desk, sketchbook open, pencil moving with a newfound sense of calm and purpose. Kelly’s problems were temporary, solvable, and Avery had played a part in helping her through. Their heart still fluttered — confusing, tender, and a little dizzying — but it wasn’t panic or desperation.

This… this is a good feeling. Helping someone. Being there. Not obsessing. Not chasing. Just… being present.

And for the first time in a long while, Avery felt a quiet sense of accomplishment and hope, ready to face tomorrow with their friends, their feelings, and a little more clarity about who they were and what mattered

Chapter Text

The morning sun barely penetrated Avery’s bedroom, but the weight in their chest made it feel darker than midnight. They dragged themselves to school mechanically, backpack slung over one shoulder, eyes heavy with sleeplessness. Their mind wasn’t on classes, friends, or even the usual sketches — it was consumed by An.

An’s dry responses, the blocks, the lack of acknowledgment — it all churned inside Avery, twisting into frustration and anger they couldn’t contain.

By the time they reached homeroom, Avery’s hands were clenched into fists, shoulders tense. A small question from a classmate — innocuous, harmless — sent an eruption of irritation through them.

“Av, are you okay?” Dona asked gently, noticing the tightness in their jaw and the sharp edge in their voice.

“I’m fine,” Avery snapped before they could think. “Just… leave me alone.”

The words shocked even Avery. Their voice had carried a bite they hadn’t intended. The classroom went quiet for a moment, classmates exchanging glances, unsure how to react.

Dona’s frown deepened, but she didn’t push further. She knew Avery’s moods were volatile, but this was different. Something in their usual calmness was fraying.

Throughout the day, Avery’s tension escalated. Small inconveniences — dropped books, someone accidentally bumping into them, the endless chatter in the hallway — ignited immediate irritation. Friends tried to intervene, but Avery waved them off or muttered curt responses.

Why can’t anyone understand? Why is everything so… complicated? Avery thought, heart racing. Every glance at An, every memory of her smile or dry “thank you,” replayed like a broken record in their mind, mixing frustration with longing.

By lunchtime, Avery’s hands shook slightly, their chest tight with emotion. They shoved their tray aside, ignoring the friends’ tentative attempts at conversation.

Later, in a quieter hallway, Avery muttered under their breath, pacing.

Why does she get to be… completely unreachable? Why does she… ignore me? Why does everything feel… impossible?

Dona appeared quietly beside them, careful not to crowd. “Av… you need to breathe. Sit down, just for a moment.”

Avery’s head snapped up, eyes wild. “No! I… I can’t! I… I need to… I just…”

Their words faltered, chest heaving. Friends watched helplessly as Avery spiraled, alternating between aggression and despair. It wasn’t physical aggression, but the intensity in their gestures, voice, and pacing made it clear their mind was fraying.

Kelly stepped forward gently. “Av… it’s okay. We’re here. Just… let it out.”

Avery’s eyes filled with tears, mingled with frustration. “I… I hate this! I hate… everything! I can’t… I can’t stop thinking about her! I… it’s like my brain… won’t… stop!”

Dona nodded slowly. “I know… it’s overwhelming. But… yelling, snapping… it won’t make her notice. It won’t solve anything. You have to… breathe. Step back. Focus on something else, even for a little while.”

Avery shook their head violently. “No! I can’t! Everything is… just… her! Everything reminds me of her! Every little thing!”

By the end of the day, Avery’s behavior had left them exhausted but still restless, unable to calm down. At home, they collapsed onto the bed, phone in hand, staring at An’s name in their contacts — blocked.

Sleep was elusive. Every thought spiraled:

What if she remembers that bouquet? Does she think it’s annoying?

What if she sees me in the hall tomorrow and hates me?

Maybe I should’ve stopped sooner… maybe I’m too much… maybe I’m not enough…

Does she even care about me at all?

The questions compounded, each one feeding the next. Avery’s mind became a labyrinth of “what-ifs” and regrets, each scenario more elaborate and hopeless than the last.

Hours passed as Avery lay in bed, eyes wide, tracing patterns on the ceiling with their thoughts. They imagined every interaction with An, analyzing:

That glance in the hallway. Was it neutral? Was it… a small smile? Or did I just imagine it?

The bouquet. Did she even see it properly? Did she… maybe… resent it?

Each small gesture, each little gift. Was it too much? Did I scare her? Or was it… appreciated?

The spiraling thoughts were relentless. Avery’s chest ached, tears dampening the pillow, mind oscillating between longing, guilt, and frustration. They wanted answers, closure, understanding, but the reality was simple and cruel: there were none.

At some point, Avery reached for their sketchbook, hoping that drawing would help calm the storm inside them. Pencil scratched against paper, lines forming shapes, abstract forms of chaos, sharp edges representing their tension. But even the act of drawing couldn’t quiet the mind.

Every shadow on the wall became a potential reflection of An, every creak of the floorboards seemed like a whisper of her voice. Their thoughts were tangled, wild, unyielding.

I’m losing it, Avery admitted quietly, voice barely a whisper. I can’t… I can’t stop thinking… I can’t…

Hours turned into late night. Friends had checked in, tried texting, but Avery didn’t respond. They were lost in their own mental storm, caught between obsession and heartbreak. Their mind replayed every possible scenario with An, dissecting each smile, each gesture, each word, magnifying and twisting them into a chaotic tapestry of longing and frustration.

Even small memories — like An laughing with Ngan, her casual tone, her indifferent glance at a gift — were endlessly analyzed. Avery imagined dozens of alternative outcomes:

What if I hadn’t given the latte?

What if I’d delivered the bouquet differently?

What if she… actually liked me, but something stopped her?

The spiral was unending. Avery’s breathing was shallow, chest tight, mind racing. They wanted desperately to escape the thoughts, to stop overthinking, but every attempt seemed to feed them instead.

By 2 a.m., Avery was exhausted physically but mentally awake, heart pounding, thoughts unrelenting. They hugged their knees, rocking slightly, murmuring fragmented sentences:

“I just… want… to matter… to her… why won’t she… notice… understand… care…”

Tears soaked their pillow, pencil abandoned on the floor. The room was dark, silent except for the quiet hum of the city outside. Avery felt completely alone with their mind, isolated even as friends and family slept nearby.

Finally, in a moment of fragile clarity, Avery whispered to themselves:

I… can’t keep doing this. I… I need… to breathe. To step back. To… survive this.

It was a tiny acknowledgment, faint and trembling, but a start. The spiral had reached its peak; now the work of rebuilding control, of self-soothing, of facing reality without collapsing entirely had to begin.

For the first time that night, Avery closed their eyes, letting the tears dry on their cheeks, heart racing but slowly, imperceptibly slowing. They weren’t calm yet. They weren’t healed. But the first step toward sanity, patience, and self-preservation had been taken.

Tomorrow… maybe I can try again. Maybe I can breathe. Maybe… just maybe… I can start to let go.

Chapter Text

The sun poured softly through Avery’s bedroom window, casting gentle morning light over the scattered sketchbooks and notebooks. For the first time in days, Avery felt a sense of calm that wasn’t forced — a quiet, steady presence in their chest that hadn’t existed since the blocks, the gifts, and the spiraling thoughts of An.

It wasn’t perfect. The heartbreak hadn’t completely disappeared, and memories of the dry “thank you” and the social media blocks still lingered like faint shadows. But for the first time, Avery felt… grounded.

Over breakfast, Dona appeared in the kitchen with her usual smirk. “Morning, Av. You look… less like a tornado hit you today.”

Avery chuckled softly, shrugging. “Morning. Yeah… I think I… I’m slowly getting back to normal.”

Kelly leaned against the counter, smirking. “Finally. Took you long enough. You’re… actually talking to people without snapping or crying?”

Avery smiled faintly. “Trying. It’s… a process.”

Ori and Dulcie joined in, offering quiet encouragement. Avery appreciated the subtle support. Their friends had watched them spiral, offered advice, and stayed by their side even when Avery had pushed them away.

I couldn’t have done this alone, Avery thought. Friends really do matter.

By mid-morning, Avery had regained a semblance of routine. Classes passed without incident; they participated, answered questions, and even laughed softly at Dona’s teasing remarks.

And then, during a quiet moment between lessons, a notification buzzed on their phone.

Avery’s heart skipped. They hesitated before looking down, almost afraid to see what it was.

The screen displayed a TikTok notification:

An has unblocked you.

Avery froze. Their chest raced, a mixture of anxiety, disbelief, and cautious excitement washing over them. They had expected nothing, prepared for rejection, and yet here it was: a small opening.

They scrolled to An’s profile, careful not to overthink. The account was familiar, the same as before, yet somehow now… accessible. Avery’s fingers hovered over the screen.

Do I… do I comment? Do I… follow again?

The questions tumbled in their mind, but this time, instead of panic, there was a quiet steadiness. Avery had spent the past days learning to breathe, to step back, to respect boundaries. They could handle this — carefully, thoughtfully.

During lunch, Avery’s friends noticed the subtle tension in their expression. Dona nudged them, whispering, “Something’s up. You look… like you’re about to explode… or cry.”

Kelly smirked. “Maybe An finally realized what they’ve been missing.”

Avery rolled their eyes but smiled faintly. “Something like that. But… I think I can… handle it this time.”

Ori leaned closer, whispering teasingly, “Handle it? You mean… not lose your mind?”

Dulcie’s quiet nod offered reassurance. Avery felt a small warmth. Yes. I can handle this.

After school, Avery returned to their usual spot near the benches, phone in hand. They took a deep breath, opened TikTok, and carefully followed An’s account again. Their heart raced, but not in panic — in cautious anticipation.

Avery didn’t immediately message. They had learned from past mistakes. Instead, they watched An’s videos quietly, scrolling through familiar content, noting subtle changes, the way An laughed or moved. Each small clip reminded Avery why they had cared in the first place, but this time, it was calm admiration, not desperate obsession.

That evening, Avery reflected in their sketchbook, pencil tracing abstract shapes while their mind wandered thoughtfully.

She unblocked me… Avery wrote. It doesn’t mean everything is okay. It doesn’t mean she suddenly likes me. But… it’s a start. A small opening. And I can… I can respect it. I can handle it without losing myself.

They paused, smiling faintly. I’m… stronger than I thought. I’m… learning. I can care, but I don’t have to spiral. I can… breathe.

The next day at school, Avery noticed An in the courtyard. Their heart fluttered, but the response was different from before. They felt calm, grounded, capable of interaction without panic.

An glanced in their direction, neutral as usual, but Avery no longer felt the intense need to be noticed or to act impulsively. Instead, they offered a small, polite wave, which An returned with a subtle nod.

It was brief. It was simple. And it was enough.

Throughout the day, Avery’s friends noticed the shift. Dona nudged Kelly. “See that? Av’s… different. Healthier. Calm. And still… aware of An, but… not panicking.”

Kelly smirked, whispering, “Yeah… I see it. Maybe now they can focus on… other things too.”

Ori and Dulcie nodded in agreement, quiet smiles on their faces. Avery had grown, even in subtle ways, learning to manage feelings without being consumed by them.

By evening, Avery’s sketchbook was filled with doodles of calm moments, abstract reflections of growth and patience. They even managed to draw a small, quiet sketch of An, not with longing or obsession, but with admiration and respect.

This… this is progress, Avery thought. I can care. I can notice. I can… manage myself.

The phone buzzed occasionally, but Avery didn’t check immediately. They had learned the value of patience, the strength in boundaries, self-control, and emotional awareness.

Chapter Text

The morning air carried the usual hum of students, chatter bouncing off lockers and classrooms. But for Avery, the hallway noise felt like static electricity scraping across their nerves. Each laugh, each shout, each careless brush of a backpack against theirs sent a spike of irritation straight into their chest.

From the moment they stepped into homeroom, something in Avery had shifted. They moved mechanically, backpack heavy on their shoulder, eyes darting at everything, processing nothing. Their friends noticed immediately.

“Av… you okay?” Dona asked, her voice gentle but wary, from the side.

“I said I’m fine,” Avery snapped, sharper than intended, their jaw tightening. The words ricocheted against the walls, drawing glances.

Kelly, sitting a row ahead, gave a small frown but said nothing. Avery didn’t notice; their focus had tunneled inward, all their thoughts bouncing around like shards of broken glass.

Class passed in a blur. Avery answered questions in clipped tones, scribbled notes carelessly, and occasionally muttered under their breath. Any small noise — the scraping of chairs, a pencil dropping — ignited a flare of irritation. When someone accidentally knocked over a stack of textbooks in the back of the classroom, Avery’s hands slammed down on their desk with a sharp bang, sending papers skittering.

“Av!” Dona exclaimed, stepping forward, her eyes wide. “Stop—”

But Avery wasn’t done. The frustration had nowhere to go, and it needed an outlet. They shoved their chair back with a loud scrape, sending it clattering across the floor. Several students jumped, startled, while Kelly flinched slightly, eyes soft and concerned.

“Don’t—” Ori started, but Avery’s glare cut her off. Their lips pressed into a tight line, chest heaving, eyes flashing like lightning.

Dona, Kelly, Dulcie, and even Ori exchanged worried glances. Something in Avery had snapped, and it wasn’t the casual irritability they were used to. This was different — intense, unpredictable, volatile.

During the next class, Avery’s behavior only worsened. Every minor inconvenience became a trigger: a desk out of place, someone tapping their pen, a whisper from the next row. Their responses were abrupt and aggressive, voice sharp, movements restless.

“Av, calm down!” Dona whispered, stepping closer again during group work.

Avery spun toward her, eyes wild. “I’m fine! I said I’m fine! Just… stop talking!”

The words hit harder than intended. A hush fell over the classroom. Dulcie, usually reserved, glanced down, biting her lip nervously. Ori’s chocolate-tanned face was tense with concern. Even Kelly looked uneasy, though her soft gaze lingered on Avery, unafraid but attentive.

Avery noticed Kelly’s presence, a small anchor amid the chaos in their mind. And yet it wasn’t enough to calm the storm entirely.

Lunch was no better. Avery sat at their usual table with the group, but instead of laughing and joking, they barely touched their food, staring blankly at the tray in front of them. Every small noise — students walking past, cutlery clinking, laughter — felt magnified, a relentless pressure against their chest.

Dona tried again. “Av… you haven’t eaten. Maybe you should…”

“I’m fine,” Avery said again, but this time the words were hollow. Their hands clenched into fists, fingers digging into their palms to release some of the pressure inside.

Kelly shifted closer quietly, nudging Avery’s shoulder gently. Just a small touch, soft and careful. Avery’s chest twitched. They wanted to lash out at everything — the noise, the pressure, the world — but Kelly’s presence was a calm pool in a raging storm. Their jaw unclenched slightly, and for the briefest moment, the storm softened.

But the reprieve was temporary. During afternoon class, a group project forced Avery into close proximity with other students. The combination of enforced interaction, chatter, and deadlines pushed Avery to a boiling point.

A pen snapped under their fingers. “Ugh!” They slammed their notebook closed, papers scattering. Students recoiled.

“Av… please, relax,” Dulcie said softly, her face hidden behind her mask.

“Don’t tell me to relax!” Avery barked, their voice echoing against the walls. “I said I’m fine! I’m tired of everyone thinking they know what’s okay for me!”

The room fell silent. Even the teacher paused, unsure how to respond. Avery’s eyes swept the room like lightning, catching every glance, every startled expression, every flinch, before settling on Kelly. She was calm. Gentle. Watching quietly. Not judging.

Avery exhaled slowly, just enough to suppress the urge to snap further. But the pressure inside was still there, raw and sharp.

The rest of the day continued in this tense pattern. Avery alternated between aggression — sharp words, slammed desks, exasperated sighs — and small moments of frozen detachment when no one dared approach them. Their friends hovered at a distance, exchanging worried looks, unsure how to reach them without pushing them further away.

Finally, the announcement of nap time came, and Avery felt a strange mix of relief and anxiety. The quiet room and dimmed lights offered a small reprieve from the relentless sensory assault, yet it also forced them to confront the storm inside.

Kelly, as always, chose a spot next to Avery. She didn’t ask questions, didn’t press for explanation — she simply moved beside them, laying her head lightly on the desk, giving Avery enough space but providing a soft anchor. Avery’s chest tightened at the simplicity of it.

For the first time in hours, Avery’s hands unclenched. Their shoulders drooped slightly, tension slowly leaking out. The storm wasn’t gone, but it was quieter. Kelly’s presence offered a fragile harbor in a turbulent sea.

As the room settled into the soft hum of low whispers and the quiet shuffle of students, Avery felt the first inkling of release. They hadn’t broken down completely yet, but the edge was softening.

Tomorrow… maybe I can manage better, Avery thought faintly, though the thought itself was tentative, fragile. For now, they just breathed, eyes fixed on Kelly, the only calm point in a chaotic world.

...

The soft hum of the classroom settled over Avery like a thin blanket. The lights were dimmed, students murmuring quietly as they adjusted themselves on mats and blankets. Nap time. For everyone else, it was a routine pause — a break from the day’s motion. For Avery, it was a crucible.

They settled onto their mat, curling slightly, head down, eyes half-closed. The storm inside them, the tension, the rage, the exhaustion, was still there — a quiet thunder in the back of their mind. Every interaction from the day replayed: the snapping pens, the slammed desks, the sharp words. But Kelly was beside them, laying down gently, not pressing, not speaking. Just there.

Avery’s chest heaved, slow breaths uneven. They wanted to pull away, to run from everything, from everyone, even from Kelly. But the warmth beside them was subtle, persistent — a tether they couldn’t ignore.

Their mind began to unravel slowly, quietly.

Why am I like this? Why can’t I… just… be normal? The thought repeated, looping. Why can’t I… stop overthinking… stop… feeling… so much… so deeply?

Tears pricked the corners of Avery’s eyes. They blinked hard, trying to hold them back, but the tension of the day was too much. They had bottled it all up — the frustration, the anger, the fear, the despair — and now it demanded release.

Kelly, sensing the small tremble in Avery’s shoulder, moved just slightly closer, careful not to crowd. Her hand brushed the edge of Avery’s arm in a light, grounding gesture. Avery stiffened at first, then allowed themselves to lean, ever so slightly, into the presence.

The first tear slipped free.

Avery’s hands, still curled tightly under their chest, shook. More tears followed, silent at first, then quicker, wet tracks marking the exhaustion, the frustration, and the ache inside. The mat felt cold beneath them, but Kelly’s presence beside them was warm. Safe. Gentle. Unjudging.

Avery buried their face slightly into the crook of their elbow, hiding the tears, but Kelly didn’t move. She didn’t ask questions, didn’t pry. She simply rested her hand lightly over Avery’s back, a soft, steadying weight that said more than words ever could.

The room’s ambient noises — the shuffle of blankets, faint whispers, distant footsteps — all faded into a muted blur. The storm inside Avery raged quietly, a whirl of emotions.

I’m… I’m broken… I’m too much… I can’t…

And yet, with Kelly there, something strange happened. Their chest loosened slightly. The tremor in their hands slowed. The sharp edges of their panic softened, just a little. Kelly’s presence was anchor and balm in the midst of the emotional tempest.

Avery shifted, turning very slightly toward her, eyes still damp. Kelly didn’t flinch or pull away. Instead, she adjusted herself so that Avery could rest more fully, a subtle invitation of support. Avery’s head pressed gently against the small space between her shoulder and arm, breathing starting to even out, chest still heavy but less constricted.

Time passed in slow motion. Avery’s sobs quieted into soft hiccups, then mere shudders. The warmth beside them, the subtle pressure of Kelly’s hand, the gentle rhythm of her breathing — it was grounding. Avery felt seen, not for the outbursts, not for the anger, not for the chaos, but for them — as a person struggling, fragile, human.

The words they couldn’t speak were replaced by the silence between them. Kelly’s gestures were simple, deliberate: a light brush of her fingers along Avery’s arm, a subtle squeeze of the shoulder, a tilt of her body to provide a steadying presence. No words, no pressure, just care.

Avery let themselves finally relax, letting tears fall freely, hands loosening their grip on themselves. The storm inside them didn’t vanish — it would never vanish entirely — but the tension, the unbearable weight, lifted just enough to allow breathing, to allow a fragile peace.

I’m not… completely lost, Avery thought faintly, still curled beside Kelly. I… I can survive this… even if I feel everything too deeply…

They pressed their face closer to Kelly’s side, still trembling but calmer, and Kelly remained perfectly still, soft and unwavering. No advice, no lecture, just presence — a silent promise that Avery wasn’t alone.

Minutes passed like hours. Avery’s thoughts slowed, the chaotic swirl quieting into a dull hum at the edges of their mind. The tears dried partially, leaving streaks on their cheeks, but the fear of losing control had faded. For the first time since the blocks, the gifts, and the chaotic spiral of recent weeks, Avery felt a moment of genuine safety and acceptance.

Kelly’s hand stayed on their back, warm and steady. Avery’s breathing evened out fully. The storm wasn’t gone, but it had a calm eye, and Avery rested in it.

The classroom remained quiet around them. Other students murmured softly, some already asleep, some resting. Avery felt the distant awareness of the world beyond their small bubble — but it didn’t intrude. It wasn’t demanding. It wasn’t threatening.

In this small space, with Kelly beside them, Avery allowed themselves to be human, to be fragile, to cry without judgment. Every shaky breath, every subtle sob, was a step toward healing. Slowly, deliberately, Avery let the chaos fall away, even if only for a moment.

Eventually, Avery shifted slightly, nuzzling closer to Kelly, who adjusted without hesitation, giving Avery the most comfortable position she could manage on the small mat. Avery’s eyelids grew heavy, and though the storm inside hadn’t completely ended, they felt the faintest trace of hope — a reminder that even in chaos, there could be quiet, and even in despair, there could be gentle care.

The nap time ended, the bell signaling a return to the normal rhythm of the day. But Avery didn’t move immediately. They remained, head resting lightly on Kelly’s arm, feeling the slow return of calm, the soft beat of another person nearby, and the quiet reassurance that they weren’t alone in their mind, even if the world still felt chaotic.

For the first time in a long while, Avery allowed themselves to simply exist, letting the storm quiet enough to just breathe, to just be, and to just feel comforted by someone who cared — no words necessary.