The festival's energy still hummed in your veins, even as the night stretched longer and quieter. You sat beneath the old sakura tree behind the school building, watching the petals flutter down like snowflakes despite it being autumn. That tree had been your childhood haven. Beneath its branches, scraped knees were soothed, secrets were exchanged, and promises were whispered.
Now, years later, you sat between two people who knew you better than anyone else.
"I still remember the first time you cried under this tree," your best friend said softly, pulling their knees up. "You lost your favorite toy. We turned the whole playground upside down for it."
The quiet friend chuckled. "You made us swear we'd always protect what mattered to you."
They both looked at you now, and suddenly their gazes weren't playful. They were... intense.
You bit your lip. "You both remember too much."
"How could we forget?" your best friend said, brushing your shoulder. "You're unforgettable."
The quiet friend's hand reached over and gently took yours. "And we meant that promise. We always have."
You looked between the two — one loud and passionate, always wearing his heart on his sleeve; the other calm and steady, holding you up without asking for anything in return.
Two different kinds of love.
"I don't want to hurt either of you," you whispered. "I care about both of you. But I don't know what this feeling is yet. It's new… confusing."
Your best friend leaned in, voice low. "Then let us help you figure it out. Just don't push us away."
The quiet friend gave a faint nod. "Even if you can't choose now... just let us stay beside you."
The bell from the festival rang in the distance — a final signal that the night was ending.
You stood slowly. "Let's walk home together. Like we always did."
And the three of you did — shoulder to shoulder, hearts tangled in silence and hope