The next week the hallways felt heavier like everyone had already decided summer was ending but no one wanted to say it out loud The air conditioners hummed too hard and the teachers talked about deadlines and schedules and I just kept watching the clock waiting for that one quiet hour after class when everything slowed down

He was already in the film room when I got there headphones around his neck fingers tapping the table like he was trying to find a rhythm that fit the silence I dropped my bag beside the chair and said you look tired He said you look worse and laughed the kind of laugh that made you forget what you were thinking

We played back the clips from last week The screen flickered showing empty corridors echoes of footsteps the sound of soda cans opening somewhere off-camera He said we needed a new idea something more alive something that feels like breathing I said maybe we should film people laughing He said no that’s too easy maybe we film the space after laughter ends that small quiet moment when you don’t know if it’s over or just beginning

He handed me the camera told me to shoot whatever I saw I pointed it at him first without thinking He didn’t move just looked at me through the lens and said you’re supposed to capture life not me but he didn’t tell me to stop so I didn’t

Later we went outside to the courtyard the air warm and sticky the smell of grass everywhere I filmed him walking through the light lines of shadow cutting across his shoulders He said you’re shaking I said maybe it’s the heat He said sure

When we watched the footage on his laptop the picture trembled a little every few seconds like a heartbeat He didn’t say anything for a long time then whispered it’s imperfect but it feels honest

We sat on the steps as the sun began to drop He passed me another can of lemon soda this one colder the metal biting my fingers We shared it like before I told him I couldn’t tell if we were friends or just two people too quiet to leave He said maybe both and smiled like he meant neither

A group of students ran past shouting about exams and the noise filled the space between us I wanted to tell him that I didn’t care about exams or the project or anything that ended I just wanted to stay here inside this moment that didn’t know what it was yet

He looked up and said listen The courtyard had gone still except for the sound of cicadas and one soft song leaking from someone’s phone far away He said that’s what I mean the noise between songs that’s what feels real

When he left he didn’t wave but he turned once at the door like he was checking if I was still there I was

I walked home slowly passing the vending machine where we first shared soda I almost bought another can but I didn’t I wanted the taste to stay the way it was

That night I lay on my bed replaying the sound of his voice in my head trying to remember the exact pitch when he said my name It wasn’t loud it wasn’t careful it was somewhere in between like the world holding its breath

Maybe love starts there in the noise between songs in the seconds we almost say something but don’t