Ruz's POV
Winning felt quiet.
The strangest part wasn't the noise.
Outside was pure chaos students screaming, cheering, and laughing loud enough to make your ears ring.
Liam had collapsed onto the grass like he had survived a battlefield, staring at the sky with his arms spread wide.
People were chanting random section names.
Teachers were congratulating students.
And for some reason, a guy from Section B was crying into his jacket even though I was pretty sure he hadn't participated in anything.
The entire school had completely lost its mind.
But inside me, underneath all of it, everything felt steady.
I stood in the middle of the chaos, surrounded by students screaming my name and screaming at each other.
It was strange.
It was also, somehow, exactly right.
I went home after the celebrations died down.
The noise of the festival faded behind me. The shouting, the chanting, the emotional breakdowns all of it disappeared the moment I stepped through the front gate. Home was supposed to be quiet. Home was supposed to be peaceful.
Home was neither of those things.
The door was not even fully closed behind me when it started.
"SO THE CHAMPION HAS RETURNED!"
Tito's voice hit me like a loudspeaker that had no volume control and a personal grudge against my eardrums.
I blinked once. Slowly.
"…I just walked in," I said.
"That is how champions walk in," he said proudly, pointing at me like I had just won a national award, a Nobel Prize."With confidence and Powers know that they have defeated their enemies."
"I did not defeat enemies," I said, stepping inside and closing the door behind me. "I won a school festival. Against other students. Who are also children."
"Same thing," Tito said, waving his hand dismissively.
Adrian walked in behind me, slower than usual. Suspiciously quiet. The kind of quiet that meant he was thinking about something, and when Adrian thought about something, it usually meant trouble.
Tita came from the living room, wiping her hands on a towel, her soft smile already in place before she even saw me.
"You are back," she said. "I heard the results."
Her eyes settled on me warm, gentle. Far too gentle for someone who had spent the entire week humiliating people with glitter and adhesive gel.
There was one thing I could never understand, how she always seemed to know exactly what had happened at school.
Whenever I asked her, she would only smile. Adrian and I had both tried countless times to get an answer out of her.
Her response was always the same.
'I have my ways.'
"…You did well," she said.
Something small inside me softened. Against my will. Against all my defenses.
"…Yeah," I said, because that was all I could manage without my voice cracking.
She stepped closer and brushed my hair back from my face.
"I am proud of you," she said.
Pause.
Okay. That hit somewhere I did not expect. Somewhere soft and unprotected.
I cleared my throat. Aggressively. Loudly. That meant I was trying very hard not to feel things.
"…It was just a school event," I said.
"JUST?!" Tito shouted. "JUST a school event? You defeated half the school!"
"I did not defeat them," I said calmly. "They lost."
Adrian scoffed from behind me, the sound dripping with sibling superiority.
"Relax," he said. "You barely won."
I turned around.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
"…Say that again," I said.
He smirked.
That was his mistake.
"You barely...."
I was already moving.
I lunged. He stepped back instantly because he knew me, because we had done this a thousand times before.
Too late for him. Much too late.
I grabbed his sleeve. He twisted away. I almost tripped over Tito's mismatched slipper one blue, one green, because Tito believed in chaos as a lifestyle choice and Adrian laughed.
Big mistake.
"…You are dead," I said.
"I won yesterday," he shot back, dodging left. "Emotionally."
"That is not how this works," I said.
He ran.
Actually ran. Inside the house. Like a criminal fleeing the scene of a crime. His footsteps pounded against the floor, loud and panicked and deeply satisfying.
Tito clapped like he had bought front row tickets to this disaster and was getting his money's worth.
"YES! ENTERTAINMENT HAS STARTED! SOMEBODY GET SNACKS!"
I chased him down the hallway.
"STOP RUNNING LIKE A COWARD," I shouted.
"I AM STRATEGICALLY RETREATING," he shouted back, his voice echoing off the walls.
"You are tripping over your own ego," I said.
He turned sharply at the corner. I followed. Almost crashed into a chair and barely recovered. My shoulder hit the wall,
Tita sighed from the kitchen.
I heard it. Even the neighbors probably heard it.
"No breaking furniture," she said, her voice carrying the weight of someone who had said these words many times.
"No promises," I replied instantly,
"ADIRAN"
Already mid lunge toward Adrian, who had grabbed a cushion from the couch and was holding it up like a shield.
Like that would save him.
"You need help," I said.
"You need protection," he shot back,
Eyes wide and breathing hard, clutching the cushion at a bizarre angle that made it painfully obvious he had no idea how to use it as a weapon or a shield.
I grabbed another cushion from the other end of the couch.
We stared at each other. Silent. The house held its breath. Even Tito stopped clapping.
Then we attacked.
Cushions flew. Feathers exploded. Someone possibly me, possibly Adrian, possibly both of us knocked over a lamp. Tita's sigh grew louder. Tito's laughter grew louder. The war was glorious and terrible and absolutely unnecessary.
"Why is there war in the living room?"
We froze.
Slowly turned.
Kuya stood at the bottom of the stairs. Arms crossed. Eyebrows raised. Dressed in casual clothes but somehow still looking like he was about to fire someone. His timing was perfect, which meant it was infuriating.
Adrian immediately pointed at me.
Traitor.
"She started it," he said.
I pointed back at him, cushion still in hand, feathers still stuck to my hair.
"He provoked me," I said.
Kuya sighed.
"…Of course," he said.
He walked down the stairs slowly, calm as ever, untouchable as ever, annoying. His left hand moved freely now, no sling, no bandage, He had been healing. He had been getting better.
"How was the event?" he asked, stopping at the bottom of the stairs.
"Successful," I said casually,
Kuya looked at both of us. His expression was unreadable, the way it always was when he was trying not to show emotion.
Then,
"…Good," he said.
A pause.
He lifted his left hand, flexing his fingers slowly, deliberately. The movement was smooth. Natural. No hesitation. No pain.
"My hand is fine now," he said.
"Completely. I can handle my meetings and presentations again."
I blinked.
"…Fully?" I asked. "No more restrictions? No more limitations?"
He nodded. No hesitation. No doubt.
"Fully," he said.
Then he looked at both of us with that flat, knowing expression that meant he was about to say something annoying.
"No excuses for either of you now," he said. "You cannot blame your chaos on worrying about me. You cannot blame your distractions on my recovery. You are out of excuses. Completely. Entirely. Forever."
Adrian groaned like a dying animal. A long, loud, dramatic sound that echoed through the living room and probably scared the neighbors' cat.
I rolled my eyes so hard I saw my own brain.
"Who was making excuses?" I asked.
Kuya looked at me. Flat. Unimpressed.
"…You," he said simply.
I pointed at Adrian.
"He is the problem."
Adrian pointed back at me, his cushion still raised like a shield.
"She is worse.
Kuya paused. Looked between us.
Then,
"…You are both a problem," he said.
Tito called from the living room, where he had apparently been watching the entire exchange while eating something he had definitely found in the kitchen without permission.
"Correct," he said, his mouth full.
Tita's voice came from the kitchen, calm and final.
"Eat first. Fight later."
That ended the debate.
No one argued with Tita. It was not bravery. It was a survival instinct.
Dinner was not quiet.
It was never quiet in this house. But today it felt lighter than usual, like someone had opened a window in a room that had been closed too long, and fresh air was finally moving through.
Tito kept asking about the event like it was a live broadcast and he was the color commentator.
"So who fell first?" he asked, pointing his fork at me.
"Not me," I said.
"Who cried?" he asked.
"Probably Liam," I said. "He cries a lot. It is his primary skill."
"ACCURATE," Adrian said, finally putting the cushion down and picking up his fork.
I smirked, stabbing a piece of chicken with more force than necessary.
"He almost quit life," I said. "On the field. In front of everyone. He lay down on the grass and announced that he had seen too much and was ready to ascend to a higher plane of existence."
Tita laughed softly. The kind of laugh that made you want to say more just to hear it again. Warm and gentle and completely genuine.
"And you?" she asked, looking at me. "How was your experience?"
I paused.
I thought about it. Really thought about it, past the sarcasm and the deflection and the instinct to make everything a joke.
"…I had fun," I said.
Silence.
Adrian glanced at me. Just for a second.
Tita smiled and she did not push or did not ask more, she did not demand explanations or details.
She just reached over and put more food on my plate.
That was her language. Eat. You did good. Stay. You belong here.
The house quieted as the evening wore on.
Lights dimmed. Voices faded into murmurs.
I sat by the window in my room, staring down at the street below.
The day replayed in my head. The event. The chaos. The win.
And that feeling.
Being free.
Not controlled. Not distant.
There was me, who burst out laughing at glitter explosions, who screamed at fake insects on purpose and who believed someone would catch her when she fell.
A small smile formed on my face, without permission.
"…Not bad," I said to the empty room, to the dark sky, to no one in particular.
In the morning
My phone buzzed.
Then buzzed again.
Then again, like someone was spamming the chat with intent and purpose and a complete disregard for my sleep schedule.
I groaned, rolled over, and grabbed my phone from the nightstand.
Unknown group chat. I opened it.
Josh:
"Celebration of section Section Z. The park near the school. Three o'clock. Do not be late."
Nika:
"You are invited. Bring the short one who cries a lot. He is funny."
Zayn:
"…Come."
I stared at the screen.
Three dots. No explanation. No "please." No small talk. No negotiation. Just "come." Like they already knew I would. Like my presence was assumed rather than requested.
I stared longer.
Then Liam messaged me directly, his timing as panic.
❤️ My Future Regret ❤️:
"WE WERE INVITED. THIS IS A TRAP. I HAVE WATCHED ENOUGH MOVIES TO KNOW THAT RANDOM INVITATIONS TO NEUTRAL LOCATIONS ARE ALWAYS TRAPS. THEY ARE GOING TO SACRIFICE US TO SOMETHING. I DO NOT KNOW WHAT. BUT SOMETHING."
I typed back.
Me:
"We are going."
He replied immediately, his response appearing before I could even put my phone down.
❤️ My Future Regret ❤️:
"WE ARE GOING. OKAY. FINE. BUT I WANT IT KNOWN THAT I AM PROTESTING. THIS IS MY PROTEST. I AM PROTESTING RIGHT NOW."
I could hear the existential crisis through the text. It was loud. It was familiar. It was Liam.
At 3:00 am.
The park was normal.
That made you suspicious, Birds were singing. Trees were swaying in the breeze. That one old man was doing tai chi too slowly, his movements gentle and meditative and completely out of place next to what was about to happen.
Until I saw them.
Section Z.
Already there. Already settled. Like they owned the place.
Josh leaned against a bench, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
Nika sat cross legged on the grass, her phone in her hand, her eyes scanning the horizon like she was waiting for something.
Mira was braiding something grass? string? her own hair? I did not ask because I was not sure I wanted to know.
Zayn stood apart from the others. Watching. From a distance. Like always.
Liam stood beside me, already sweating despite the cool breeze.
"…Why do they look like villains on break?" he whispered.
"Because they are," I said.
We walked over.
Josh lifted his chin slightly in greeting.
"You came," he said.
"Obviously," I replied.
Nika leaned closer to me.
"…You are more fun than expected," she said.
"I try," I said.
Liam whispered beside me, his voice barely audible.
"I do not," he said.
We did not sit. We did not stay still.
We moved.
Liam tried the slide but he regretted it immediately.
"IT BURNS," he shouted, running in circles, clutching his backside. "IT ACTUALLY BURNS.
No one helped him. We were too busy laughing.
Food stalls lined the edge of the park. Hot dogs that had been sitting out for an unknown amount of time. Cotton candy that was more sugar than air. Drinks in cups that definitely had been used before.
Mira bought something that might have been noodles and might have been rope. She ate it anyway.
Games were scattered throughout the park, most of them obviously rigged. Balls that were slightly too heavy. Hoops that were slightly too small. Targets that were slightly too far.
Josh challenged me at one of them.
"Race," he said.
"Against you?" I asked.
"Yes."
"…You are confident," I said.
He did not smile. But his eyes did. That was his version of a grin silent, subtle, completely devastating.
We ran.
Full speed. No warning. No countdown. Just go.
Liam screamed behind us, his voice echoing across the park.
"WHY ARE WE RUNNING?
I won.
Barely. My lungs burned. My legs screamed. My hair was in my face, and I was pretty sure I had swallowed a bug somewhere along the way.
Josh smiled slightly.
"…Again later," he said.
"Anytime," I replied.
At a game stall, Liam badly failed.
The guy running the stall, some bored teenager who clearly hated his job and everyone in it shook his head slowly.
"…Not your day, kid," he said.
Liam looked like someone had just canceled his favorite show.
"I did my best," he said weakly.
"That was not your best," the stall guy replied.
I stepped forward.
"Move," I said.
Three shots. Three hits. Perfect.
The attendant's jaw dropped slightly. His eyes widened.
I did not celebrate. I simply waited.
Prize secured. A Meowth Pokemon stuffed toy.
I took it and stared at it in shock, still trying to process why he chose this out of everything. Before I could even react properly, I heard a snort of laughter.
My head snapped up immediately.
Zayn.
He had already turned slightly away, pressing his lips together so hard his cheeks looked tense, clearly fighting for his life not to laugh. But it was failing badly. His shoulders were shaking like he was seconds away from losing it completely.
His eyes flicked toward me for a split second, then away again, like he already knew he was in danger.
I narrowed my eyes on him.
A warning. Silent and sharp: Don't you dare.
That seemed to make it worse. He covered his mouth with his hand now, struggling even harder not to laugh, his whole face twisting like it physically hurt to hold it in.
I exhaled sharply, then turned away from him before I actually lost patience.
Without another word, I turned to Liam and shoved the Meowth plush into his arms like I was handing over something extremely fragile.
"Here," I said flatly, as if it was now his problem.
Liam held it like it was the most precious thing he'd ever received.While I stood there acting like this whole situation was completely normal.
We sat on the grass as the sun began to set.
The park was emptying. Families were packing up their things. Children were being dragged away from the swings, screaming their protest. The tai chi man had left. The food stalls were closing, their owners counting money and wiping down counters.
Liam leaned back on his elbows, clutching his Meowth to his chest like it was a beloved pet. Irritating.
"…I survived," he said.
Josh looked at him.
"Barely," he said.
"Emotionally," Liam corrected.
I looked at the sky.
Orange. Pink. Purple bleeding into blue.
"…Not a bad day," I said.
Zayn glanced at me, his expression unreadable for a moment.
His voice came out low almost like he was speaking only to me even though everyone was still right there.
"…she told me to try once.
Should I?" he asked.
"Tita told me to try… should I?" I asked him back.
A beat of silence.
Then, almost at the same time, we answered together, like it wasn't even a decision:
"Then let's try together."
A small smile tugged at both our lips before either of us could hide it.
Around us, the world kept moving like nothing had shifted. Nika was still stealing fries off Liam's plate, earning loud complaints. Mira was proudly showing off her grass braid crown like it was some royal artifact. Josh and Aira were laughing at Liam and Nika's childish chaos, their voices blending into the background noise of the room.
But Zayn didn't look away.
He waited a moment longer, like he was testing the weight of the words he'd just agreed to.
Then, quietly firm this time,
"…It is better this way."
I did not respond.
He did not respond either. But he nodded. Just once. Just enough.
That was enough.
I let the warmth settle in my chest like something I was finally allowed to keep. Like a secret I did not have to hide anymore. Like a version of myself I had been waiting to meet.
"…Maybe this place is not so boring after all," I said.
No one heard me.
That was fine.