The bird soared high above the school, its wings slicing through the crisp morning air with rhythmic flaps. Whoosh... whoosh... The wind rushed beneath its feathers, lifting it effortlessly, the world below a patchwork of concrete, grass, and clusters of color. It chirped brightly, a single note lost in the open sky, before tipping one wing downward and beginning a graceful dive.
As it descended, the chatter and laughter of students drifted up, faint but constant, like the hum of a beehive. The bird coasted over the schoolyard, skimming just above groups of teenagers sprawled out on the grass or perched on benches. Some leaned in close, sharing secrets and jokes, while others gestured animatedly, mid-conversation. Laughter punctuated the air, rising and falling like waves, and the soft thud of backpacks dropping to the ground was an irregular beat beneath it all.
The bird tilted its head, catching sight of a small movement near a bench. With a swift, precise dive, it landed and plucked a worm wriggling just above the soil, its tiny claws gripping the earth for balance. Victorious, it looked up, its beady eyes taking in the scene of a particular trio nearby.
There, seated on a worn wooden bench, was Daniel. His posture was relaxed, one arm slung across the back of the bench, his shoulders no longer tense and hunched. A genuine smile spread across his face as he laughed at something Aiden had said. His laughter rang out over the courtyard, carrying a warmth that seemed to draw subtle glances from passing students. His energy was contagious, a quiet lightness lifting the mood around him.
The bird gave one last chirp before it took off, wings beating in a steady rhythm as it rose back into the sky, leaving the scene below.
As the bird flew away, Daniel looked around, noticing the students in the courtyard beginning to gather their bags and head out. The quiet hum of conversation softened, and groups slowly dispersed, calling goodbyes to one another as they left the benches and scattered across the schoolyard.
Next to him, Aiden stretched, letting out a contented sigh. "Well, I gotta get going," he said with a small grin, giving Daniel and Diana a final nod. "See you guys later."
They waved back, watching as he turned and headed off, leaving the two of them alone on the bench as the crowd around them thinned.
A sudden gust of wind swept through the courtyard, rustling leaves and sending a chill through the air. Diana shivered slightly and turned to Daniel, a soft smile on her face. "Let's head to class too," she said, her voice cutting through the quiet.
As they walked together, Daniel could see her in the corner of his eye—the way she moved with a subtle energy, her expression calm but bright, a contrast to the stoic faces of the other students filing past. They made their way to the classroom in comfortable silence.
Once seated, Daniel settled into his chair, his notebook open in front of him, half-listening as the teacher started the lesson. But his mind wandered back to the courtyard, to what had just happened. He'd gone out and bared his worries to Aiden… something he never thought he'd have the courage to do. A week ago, he would've scoffed at the idea—just imagining it felt cringeworthy. He'd expected Aiden to give him a polite "Okay…" followed by an awkward silence, the kind that made you wish you hadn't spoken at all.
But that hadn't happened. Aiden had listened, really listened. None of the awkwardness Daniel feared had come to pass; it had all just been in his head. He found himself smiling as he finished copying down the lesson, feeling a strange sense of lightness he couldn't quite explain.
Leaning back, he twirled his pen absently, the soft pop of the cap as he opened and closed it reminded him of the sound when he opened his lunch container. He still couldn't believe he'd shared his private spot with anyone, let alone Ava and Luna. That rooftop had been his sanctuary, his hidden place where he could retreat from everything and everyone. And yet… their presence hadn't felt like an intrusion at all. Maybe because just by being there, they'd dispelled the very thing he was trying to hide: his shame, his self-imposed isolation.
He glanced out the window, catching sight of two birds perched on a branch, chirping softly side by side. Something about their closeness reminded him of Diana—how everything had started with her. She was his catalyst, the spark that had lit up the dark corners of his mind. She made him hopeful, she made him feel and be better. She had opened up all the resentment and bottled-up feelings he'd been holding onto, and then soothed those very feelings until they faded quietly into the background.
But the questions lingered, shadowed and persistent. Was she really me? he wondered, a slight frown creasing his brow. Was the person who created her God? Had she been sent to change him, to save him somehow? Had God made her into some perfect version of himself to inspire him, to pull him out of his own misery? He brooded over these questions, a quiet intensity filling his gaze as he stared unseeing at his notebook.
"Daniel. Daniel. Daniel!"
The insistent voice broke through his thoughts. He blinked, coming back to the present, and looked up to see Diana's face close to his, her expression mildly frustrated.
"Sorry," he mumbled, sheepishly glancing around and realizing that other students were already beginning to leave the classroom. She rolled her eyes but smiled, gesturing for him to follow. "Let's go," she said simply.
As he trailed behind her, a sense of clarity settled over him. It didn't matter where she'd come from or why she was here. As long as she was by his side, he felt like everything would be okay.