Chapter 10 : The Light She Gives

Ren shoved his hands deeper into his hoodie pockets as he stepped off the bus, the winter air biting at his cheeks. He'd taken the long way home again - past the sketchy 7-Eleven, past Mr. Kim's laundromat that always smelled like fabric softener. Anything to avoid his mom's "how was school?" look and the pile of unfinished artwork glaring at him from his desk.

Then he saw her.

Tulip was crouched by the bus stop, wrapping that blue scarf she always wore around some old lady's shoulders. The woman looked like she'd been out here all day, her plastic bags full of who-knows-what clutched in shaky hands.

What shocked him wasn't that Tulip was helping - it was how she did it. No audience, no phone recording for likes. Just Tulip talking to this woman like they were old friends, making her laugh with some dumb joke.

Two kids hovered nearby, the younger one eyeing Tulip's sandwich like it was the last meal on earth. Without even blinking, Tulip handed it over.

Ren's chest did this weird squeeze thing.

He should've walked over. Should've said something. But he just stood there like an idiot, noticing things he'd never seen before - the way Tulip's hair escaped her messy bun when she moved, how her laugh sounded different when no one was watching.

That scarf was bluer than he remembered. Like someone had bottled up a perfect summer sky.

His fingers itched for his sketchpad the whole walk home.

Midnight found Ren hunched over his desk, pencil scratching across paper. The lamp made weird shadows as he tried to draw what he'd seen - Tulip leaning in, that unguarded smile she never showed at school, the way the light caught her face just right.

It wasn't his best work. He'd smudged the shading and the proportions were off. But something about it felt... true.

She looked like the kind of person who'd give you her last dollar and then make a joke about it.

His phone buzzed.

Tulip: Saw a cat that looked like you today. Grumpier though. And cuter.

Ren stared at the text, then at his sketch. He should say something clever back. Something that wouldn't sound completely lame.

Instead he just sat there, looking at this drawing of a girl who gave away scarves and sandwiches like they were nothing.

Oh.

This wasn't about liking her. Or her liking him. It was about how she was this bright, loud, ridiculous person who actually gave a damn when no one was watching.

His room felt too quiet suddenly.

Somewhere between the sound of his sheets rustling and his laptop fan whirring, it hit him:

I think I'm in trouble here.

Just as he was about to turn off the light -

Tulip: Movie tomorrow? I'm picking something so bad it'll scar us for life.

Ren smiled in the dark.

Late-night calls. Stupid jokes. Quiet moments that felt like secrets.

He didn't know what they were doing. Didn't have a name for it.

But he knew this much -

She was light.
She was chaos.
She was the reason his sketchbook was full of blue scarves and hands reaching out to help.

And when he finally slept, he could almost feel her shoulder against his again - like during their last call - close enough to pretend, just for a second, that they were more than whatever this was.