The final bell echoed through the halls.
Within minutes, students flooded through the front doors, laughing, shoving each other toward the buses and parking lot.
Ciro adjusted the strap of his backpack and kept his eyes on the ground.
Just get home.
Don't stop.
"Ciro!"
His shoulders tensed.
He knew that voice.
He stopped a few feet from the school gate but didn't turn immediately.
Behind him, footsteps hurried closer.
"Ciro... wait."
Csepel slowed to a stop beside him, slightly out of breath. He shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, tugging at the sleeve of his hoodie before letting it fall again.
"...You're fast," Csepel said with a nervous chuckle.
Ciro finally looked at him.
"What do you want?"
The words weren't meant to be cruel.
They just came out that way.
Csepel rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact for a second.
"Right."
"..."
"I, uh..." He laughed quietly at himself. "I actually planned what I was gonna say."
Ciro blinked.
"You... planned it?"
"Yeah."
"...That's new."
"Is it? "
Another awkward silence settled between them.
Students squeezed past, giving the two boys curious glances before continuing toward the parking lot.
Csepel shoved both hands into his pockets.
Then took them back out.
Then folded his arms.
Then unfolded them again.
"I've kinda been rehearsing this since yesterday."
Ciro stared at him.
"...Seriously?"
"I even practiced in the shower."
"..."
"...Don't judge me."
"I wasn't going to."
"Good."
Another pause.
Csepel let out a long breath.
"I wanted to apologize."
Ciro's expression softened... only slightly.
"I shouldn't have asked about your.... tattoo," Csepel continued, his voice quieter now. "I didn't realize it was... personal."
"It isn't."
Csepel tilted his head.
"Ciro."
"It isn't."
The sharpness in Ciro's voice made both of them flinch.
For a second, neither spoke.
Then Ciro sighed.
"...Sorry."
Csepel frowned.
"For what?"
"I snapped."
"You had a reason."
"You don't know that."
"No," Csepel admitted, nodding slowly. "I don't."
He looked down at the concrete, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the sidewalk.
"But... I don't think people need to tell me everything for me to know when they're hurting."
Ciro looked away.
His chest tightened.
"...Stop saying weird shit. "
Csepel smiled weakly.
"My specialty."
The corner of Ciro's mouth twitched before he caught himself.
For a moment...
Things almost felt normal.
Then Ciro's eyes drifted over Csepel's shoulder.
Near the school entrance.
A figure stood beneath the awning.
Too tall.
Too still.
Watching.
His fingers instinctively found the inside of his sleeve, pressing against the tattoo on his forearm.
Brave.
When he blinked...
The figure was gone.
"Ciro?"
Csepel's voice pulled him back.
"You've done that twice now."
"...Done what?"
"You keep looking behind me."
Ciro swallowed.
"...Nothing."
"Ciro..."
"I'm fine."
"You don't look—"
"I'm fine," Ciro repeated, quieter this time.
Not angry.
Just exhausted.
Csepel hesitated. His fingers tightened around the strap of his backpack.
He wanted to ask.
He wanted to keep him there.
Instead, he forced himself to nod.
"...Okay."
Ciro turned to leave.
"Ciro?"
He stopped without looking back.
"If... if you ever decide you want to tell someone..."
Csepel scratched the back of his neck, suddenly finding the pavement very interesting.
"...I'd listen."
Silence.
A breeze rustled through the trees.
Finally, Ciro gave the smallest nod.
"So... I'll see you tomorrow?" Csepel asked hopefully.
"...Yeah."
It wasn't much.
But it wasn't goodbye, either.
For now...
That was enough