They didn't always stand next to each other.

But they searched for one another.

During class breaks, at lunchtime, and after school, Epoy and Sids found many reasons to be together. Sometimes they gathered under the acacia tree, and other times, they sat in quiet spots in the library where Sids pretended to study but mostly listened to Epoy talk softly about his favorite books.

—

They didn't talk about their dreams.

Not openly.

But occasionally, their eyes would meet a little too long when someone brought up myths, stars, or past lives in class.

Sometimes, Epoy would mindlessly doodle on his notebook—drawing a crescent moon, a flame, or eyes he couldn’t forget. He didn’t know why they felt so familiar, as if he had once lived under their watch.

Sids was starting to feel something too.

A quiet buzzing beneath his skin. A feeling in his chest whenever Epoy was too far away. A shadowy figure in his dreams… that increasingly resembled the boy with a shy smile and hands that trembled at first contact.

He tried to dismiss it.

But the feeling remained.

—

Meanwhile, Epoy was… shining.

In his own gentle manner.

The once nervous boy who reacted to loud voices now chuckled at silly jokes. He waved back when classmates called out to him. He even joined in during group projects.

“Hey, Epoy,” one girl leaned closer during break. “Do you like manga? There’s this one where—”

“Oh! Yes, I’ve read that! The illustrations are amazing! ”

More classmates joined in, asking him questions and laughing along with him.

Sids sat a few seats back, observing with a neutral expression and a pen loosely held between his fingers.

But he wasn’t writing anything.

He was watching.

At Epoy’s smile. At the way his eyes crinkled. At how at ease he appeared now.

Jealousy whispered in Sids’ ears.

Not sharply or bitterly—just. . . painfully. A gentle kind of longing. He wished to be the reason Epoy smiled like that. He wanted to be close to him when his eyes shone like that.

Then—Epoy turned.

As if he felt Sids’ gaze, Epoy looked his way.

Their eyes met.

And he smiled.

Soft, familiar, warm.

Sids blinked, taken by surprise.

A warmth crept up his neck and ears. He quickly looked away, pretending to adjust his sleeves, while the corners of his mouth revealed a small smile against his will.

Later, as they walked home together under the orange light of the setting sun, Epoy talked without looking at him.

“You were staring again. ”

Sids almost choked on his breath.

“I wasn’t—”

“You always do when you think I can’t see you,” Epoy added, now smiling.

“…You’re imagining things,” Sids said quietly, his voice tense, his ears bright pink.

But when their shoulders touched—Sids didn’t pull back.

That night, both boys had dreams again.

Not exactly the same dream—but with some shared details.

A broken temple by a silver river.

A damaged crown lying near a statue.

Two hands extending over different times.

They didn’t mention it the following day.

However, both entered class carrying deeper worries and eyes that looked for each other first.