Leon Kael Rivera never liked the first week of school.


Too many voices.

Too many faces.

Too many people pretending they weren’t terrified of new beginnings.


He preferred quiet spaces—corners no one visited, hallways no one cared about, rooftops that felt like the world paused whenever he stepped into them. That afternoon, he hid where he always hid: the stairwell leading up to the school rooftop.


His sketchbook rested on his lap, charcoal smudged on his fingertips. He wasn’t drawing anything specific—just lines, shapes, shadows that looked like distant cities. Drawing helped him breathe on days when everything felt too loud.


Then he heard it.


Footsteps.

Light. Quick. Uncertain.


Leon didn’t look up; most students avoided this place anyway. But the footsteps didn’t stop. They got closer. Hesitated. Then—


“Uh—h-hi… am I allowed to be here?”


Leon froze.


That voice wasn’t something he was prepared for. It was soft, but not fragile—warm, but a little shaky, like someone trying to stay strong while the world pressed too hard on her shoulders.


He looked up.


And that was the first moment Aria Valle Monteverde entered his life.


She stood a few steps above him, hugging her backpack tightly. Her uniform looked slightly disheveled, her hair messy from rushing, her expression tired but trying to smile anyway.


For Leon, it was like seeing sunlight in a place that never had any.


He blinked, surprised by how his chest suddenly felt too small.


“Yeah,” he murmured. “You can stay.”


Aria let out a breath she seemed to be holding for years. “Thank you. Everything downstairs is… overwhelming.”


She sat beside him without waiting for permission—close enough that he could smell the faint scent of jasmine on her sleeves. Leon stiffened, not used to people willingly being near him, much less someone like her.


She hugged her knees, resting her chin on them.


“I didn’t think anyone came here,” she said. “Everyone keeps talking, talking, talking… I just wanted a place where no one asked for anything.”


Leon understood that more than she could ever know.


“Same,” he said quietly.


Silence settled between them—not uncomfortable, just gentle. Aria’s breathing slowed, softening as if the world finally stopped chasing her.


Leon tried to return to his sketch, but he suddenly felt conscious of every line he drew. His hands weren’t shaking, but his heart was beating fast enough to make him wonder if she could hear it.


After a moment, Aria tilted her head.


“What are you drawing?”


Leon tensed. He almost closed the sketchbook out of reflex—he hated showing his art to people. But something in Aria’s gaze wasn’t intrusive. It was curious without being demanding.


He turned the sketchbook slightly toward her.


“Just… whatever comes to mind.”


Her eyes widened with quiet awe.


“That’s beautiful,” she whispered.


Leon felt it—an unfamiliar warmth spreading across his chest. No one said that to him before. Or maybe people did, but not in the way Aria said it—like she truly meant it, like she saw more than just lines on paper.


He looked away, cheeks warming.

“It’s nothing special.”


“It is,” she insisted, smiling a small, genuine smile. “It looks like something you drew because you felt it, not because you had to.”


Leon didn’t know how to respond to that.


Aria had known him for less than five minutes, and yet somehow… she already noticed things people who knew him for years never bothered to see.


She exhaled softly, leaning her head back against the wall.


“I’m Aria, by the way. Transfer student. And currently avoiding everyone.”


“Leon,” he replied.


“Hi, Leon.”


“Hi.”


A soft laugh escaped her—quiet, breathy, almost shy. Leon didn’t know why that laugh would stick in his memory for years, but it did.


The rooftop was quiet.

The wind was gentle.

The world felt strangely still.


And in that stillness, Leon felt something shift inside him.


It wasn’t dramatic.

It wasn’t sudden.

It wasn’t fireworks or thunder or some movie moment.


It was simple. It was quiet.


It was the kind of feeling that doesn’t announce itself…

But grows slowly, relentlessly, until you realize it has already taken root.


Aria closed her eyes. “Do you come here often?”


“Most days.”


“Can I… come here too?”


Leon paused.


Not because he didn’t want her there—

but because he wanted it too much.


He nodded.


“Yeah. You can.”


Aria smiled—soft, grateful, beautiful in a way that made Leon stare longer than he meant to.


“Then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said as she stood up.


She left with the same gentle footsteps she arrived with.


Leon stared at the empty space beside him.


The sketch on his lap.

The door she walked through.

The sunlight she carried with her.


He exhaled, the corners of his lips lifting just slightly.


And that was the moment it happened.

Quietly.

Softly.

Irreversibly.


Leon fell.


Not all at once.

Not with intensity.

But steadily, like a star slipping out of the sky—


—into her orbit.


To be continued.