Chapter 7: A Slice-of-life

The cold from the night before still lingered in the wind, brushing against Luna’s cheeks as she tugged her scarf tighter. The streets of Cape Town buzzed faintly with traffic and laughter as students poured out from the lecture halls, arms raised to shield against the low morning sun.

“Okay, but you have to admit that moment in Episode 9 was clean,” Kevin insisted, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets. “He literally one-shot a gate boss in front of everyone. The art, the soundtrack—come on, that was peak.”

Luna snorted, slinging her backpack over one shoulder. “Peak what, exactly? Predictability? Look, I don’t hate Solo Leveling. It’s popcorn anime. It’s fun. But don’t come to me acting like it’s deep.”

Kevin gave her a look. “Oh? And I suppose Frieren is deep now? The elf woman who says three words every ten minutes?”

“She doesn’t need to say much,” Luna shot back, smirking. “Frieren’s depth comes in the silence. The pauses. The way grief lingers like air in every scene. In one minute, she says more about death and loneliness than Sung Jin-Woo does in an entire season of soloing monsters with edge-lord energy.”

Kevin clutched his chest like he’d been stabbed. “I’m wounded.”

“Good.”

They both laughed, their steps syncing up as they walked along the tree-lined path toward the bus stop. The autumn leaves rustled under their feet.

Kevin glanced sideways at her. She was bright when she smiled, loud when she got passionate about things like this. It made her seem unreachable and real all at once.

 He liked her that way— grounded, yet slightly out of step with the rest of the world.

“Have you decided yet?” he asked. “About that internship offer?”

Luna hesitated, her breath puffing out in a soft cloud. “Still thinking about it. With everything happening lately… I don’t know. I’ve just been getting these weird dreams. Like something’s coming, you know?”

Kevin gave a soft chuckle. “That’s probably just anxiety.”

“Yeah,” she said, too quickly. “Probably.”

Kevin watched her as the light changed, her eyes still tilted toward the sky like she was looking for something he couldn’t see. For a second, he wanted to say more—to tell her he noticed the way she seemed farther away lately. But the signal blinked green, and the moment passed.

They crossed the road, with the buzz of city life humming around them.

 

The park wasn’t crowded—just the quiet murmur of wind, a couple of children  kicking a soccer ball nearby, and birds pecking at crumbs left on benches. Luna and Kevin sat side-by-side on the swings, the chains creaking softly as they gently rocked, knees bent, each holding half of an oversized Gatsby.

It was one of those rare moments where everything felt… simple.

“Okay, but hear me out,” Kevin said between bites, gesturing with his sandwich, “if Solo Leveling had Frieren’s emotional beats—”

“It would be boring,” Luna interrupted, wiping her hand with a paper napkin. “You can’t just Frankenstein two shows together. Let them be what they are. Frieren is poetry, Solo Leveling is, like… a protein shake.”

Kevin laughed, shaking his head. “Okay, Full-Metal Alchemist. But a Gatsby is better than both.”

“True,” Luna said, taking another bite, the saucy steak spilling out slightly.

Just then, a voice called from across the park: “Luna!”

She looked up. Jordan.

Luna stood from the swing and waved, dusting off her jeans. Jordan approached with her usual quiet confidence—braids tied up, sunglasses perched on her head like she owned every step.

“Hey, stranger,” Luna said, smiling. “Didn’t know you hung out here.”

“I could say the same to you,” Jordan replied. She glanced at Kevin with a polite nod. “Kevin.”

“Jordan,” he nodded back, scooting slightly on his swing to make space.

They chatted for a minute—nothing urgent, just catching up. Jordan had that calm, unshakable energy that always made conversations feel grounded. Luna found herself relaxing in her presence.

Then Jordan’s phone buzzed. She checked the screen and answered.

“Yeah?” she said. A pause. “I’m with Luna. Just at the park, by the swings. Okay. Cool.”

She hung up and tucked the phone into her jacket pocket.

Luna tilted her head curiously. “Richard?”

Jordan nodded.

Luna raised an eyebrow, teasing. “You two are hanging out again? Didn’t you two use to hate each other’s guts back in high school?”

Jordan smirked and shrugged. “Yeah. We did.”

“And now?”

Jordan sat on the edge of the slide nearby, picking at a thread on her sleeve.

“I don’t know. Something changed after graduation. I guess I stopped expecting him to be the version of himself I made fun of, and he stopped pretending to hate me just to impress people.”

“So you fell for him?”

Jordan rolled her eyes playfully. “I didn’t say all that.”

Luna grinned. “You didn’t have to.”

“It wasn’t that deep,” Jordan said, brushing her hair behind her ear. “He just… stuck around. That’s all.”

They were quiet for a moment, until footsteps crunched on the gravel path nearby.

Richard.

He approached with his usual slouch and half-asleep expression, tossing a lazy wave in their direction. “Yo.”

“Right on cue,” Kevin muttered with a grin, sipping the last of his soda.

Richard’s eyes moved briefly between Luna and Kevin, then landed on Jordan. “You didn’t say they’d be here.”

“You didn’t ask.”

He nodded like that was fair, hands in his pockets. “You done here?”

“Almost.”

Richard glanced at Luna. “You good?”

Luna nodded. “Yeah. Just catching up.”

“Cool.”

There wasn’t much more to say, but somehow the silence wasn’t awkward. Just familiar.

Jordan stood and walked off with Richard, their steps syncing as they faded down the path. Luna watched them go, still chewing thoughtfully on her sandwich.

Kevin nudged her shoulder. “Still think Solo Leveling’s better?”

“Shut up,” she muttered, smiling again.

 

In two days, the world would split open.

But for now, they had swings, Gatsby’s, and the illusion of normalcy.

 

Jordan & Richard walked side by side along the paved path, their footsteps falling in rhythm like it always did.

 It wasn’t intentional—it never was—but after seven months of these walks, they’d long since stopped thinking about how their bodies moved in sync.

Richard kept his hands in his hoodie pockets. Jordan had her arms crossed loosely over her chest, eyes forward, scanning the horizon even though there wasn’t much to see. Just trees, swings behind them, and the first signs of the late afternoon wind.

“So,” Richard said after a while, “you told her.”

“She asked,” Jordan replied. “And it’s not like we’re hiding it anymore.”

Richard gave a soft grunt. Not quite annoyed. Not quite comfortable either.

He shrugged. “Just never said it.”

“That’s kind of your whole thing, huh?”

Richard cracked a smile. “You’re not exactly shouting it from the rooftops either.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. The truth was, they never had a ‘moment.’

 No first kiss under the stars. No dramatic confession in the rain. Just long walks. Texts sent when it got too quiet. Conversations where neither of them said the word “feelings,” but somehow knew what the other meant.

They paused by the bench near the duck pond—their bench now. Jordan sat first. Richard followed.

“I think,” she said slowly, “I didn’t want it to be a high school thing.”

Richard blinked. “What do you mean?”

A breeze rippled across the pond, scattering the reflection of the sun. For a heartbeat, the light dimmed—like a shadow had passed over the city. Richard glance up at the sky- It flickered for only a second, then returned. Jordan’s voice pulled him back down to earth.

“You know… some dumb crush you grow out of. A joke people bring up later, like, ‘Remember when you liked Richard?’” She mimicked a fake laugh.

He was quiet for a second. Then, “You thought I was a dumb crush?”

Jordan glanced sideways, amused. “At first? Definitely.”

Richard laughed—really laughed—and it made Jordan’s chest feel lighter than she expected.

“You weren’t exactly Prince Charming either,” he added. “You used to make fun of my handwriting.”

“Because it looked like you were writing with your elbows!”

“Hey!  I still passed English.”

They both smiled, letting the breeze carry the silence for a bit.

Richard’s tone softened. “So… what are we, then?”

Jordan tilted her head. “You asking for a label?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Just looked ahead at the rippling pond. “I don’t know. I guess I just… I like this. I like you. Even when you’re annoying.”

“Wow,” she deadpanned. “Romance isn’t dead after all.”

But her voice had lost its sarcasm. There was a quiet warmth there—safe and real.

Jordan leaned back, resting her hands behind her on the bench. “Let’s just keep walking.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I don’t need a label. We show up. We listen. We laugh. That’s enough.”

Richard nodded, more to himself than to her. “Yeah. That’s enough.”

They stood, the bench creaking as they left it behind.

Back on the path again, their steps aligned like muscle memory. No one watching would’ve called them a couple. But anyone looking closely would’ve seen it—the ease, the rhythm, the way their shoulders occasionally brushed and neither pulled away.

They weren’t official. But some things didn’t need defining to be real.