The coffee hit the floor first.

The content spilling on the papers, drenching the notebook in the liquid. A voice in an equally bitter tone blurts out, "Seriously? Are your eyes just for decoration?"

Davis Wren, a final year literature and creative writing major, also the poor boy whose notebook is now a victim of a cup of coffee.

Davis crouches down slowly, to assess the damage to his notebook. Battered, spiral bound survivor of three semesters worth of literary anguish, was now streaked out with oat milk and the chaos of none other than Leo Hallings.

Leo Hallings, a final year theatre and performing arts major, the epitome of drama.

"Oh god," Leo said, "Was that important?"

Davis looks up, slowly and with a menacing stare. "No, numbskull! I just carry this around to cosplay as a writer."

Leo winces, hand on the back of his neck, says in a nonchalant manner, "Right, well whatever, I am a bit late for something very important."

"And blind, apparently."

They locked their eyes for a moment too long. Long enough for the air to shift into something sharp and sour, like the smell of burnt espresso. The tension of their gazes on each other creates another atmosphere between them.

Leo broke the tension first, stepping back with a grin that landed somewhere between charming and rehearsed. "Well, I guess we're even now. You spilled ink on my script last semester, remember?"

"That was an accident."

"Sure, and this was fate."

Davis didn't bother defending further, he gathered his pages. Some soaked, some smudged, all ruined. Leo crouches down and helps in gathering the papers.

Their fingers brush.

They both pulled their hands back, as if the touch burned.

✦ ✦ ✦

"You're kidding," Davis mutters, sinking even lower in his chair

"You've got to be kidding me," Leo's voice echoed

from the opposite side of the auditorium.

The announcement had barely landed when half the creative arts class turned to stare at Leo.

The final year project was a collaborative short film.

Teams had been fixed by the professor and the students were paired. And by the universe's blessing, in its infinite capacity for cruelty, had decided to put Leo and Davis as one team.

Professor Alder didn't even flinch. "Hallings. Wren. I expect great work from both of you, together."

Someone in the back whispers, "God help us."

Leo raises his hand, "Is there a, um, a re-casting option, or you know any way we can change teams?"

Davis spoke flatly. "Seconded."

For once these two might have agreed on one thing, and it was all to be on separate teams.

Professor Alder smirked, "Consider it an acting challenge. Chemistry is half the work."

Leo caught Davis's eye across the room. Something passed between them. Annoyance, dread, and history.

✦ ✦ ✦

After the announcement, Davis exits the auditorium, Leo jogging behind to catch up to Davis, who was speed-walking like someone who had a train to catch.

"Hey Davis! Wait up."

"What?"

Leo shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Look, this doesn't have to be a disaster. We can just be.... civil. Professional. We both know Professor Alder is strict with grading." Desperation in his voice as without the final year project grading, he wouldn't be able to graduate.

Davis didn't stop walking. "I don't do civil."

"Then what do you do?"

Davis glances at him sideways. "Foreshadowing."

Leo blinked, "What- Is that a writer thing?"

"You're in my story now, Hallings. Tread carefully."

✦ ✦ ✦

Later that night, Davis sat at is desk, a notebook open, pen hovering.

He stared at the blank page for a long time. He picks up the pen and writes.

Scene one :

He enters like a storm: loud, golden, and far too much.

Davis enters the room, 10 minutes early-as always

Not hoping to see Leo at all.

The room smells like cold air and fresh ink.

Leo is already there.

Of course he is.

He's sprawled in one of the two chairs like he born there, one foot on the desk, collar popped up like a movie character that thinks the world revolves around him. His fingers drums lightly on the pages in front of him, Davis's pages.

Davis adjusted the stack of scripts he placed on the desk for no reason, anything to avoid conversation with Leo Hallings.

Leo looks at Davis, with a curious look on his face, "You actually came?"

Davis looks at him with a stare, "It's not like I had an option."

Leo shrugged at him, "Why not, I thought you'd probably send someone else to deal with me. Guess we are both stuck."

Davis resisted the urge to sigh. "It's not a deal. It's a final year grade."

Leo grinned in a way, striking a nerve in Davis for some reason. "Which is why I'm here. I care deeply about my future."

"Sure you do."

A moment passes. Davis passes a printed draft across the table, not meeting Leo's eyes. "Script's a draft, just to test waters."

Leo takes it, and begins skimming it immediately, his lips moving slightly as he reads the script inquisitively.

Davis watches how Leo's expressions shift, then realises and looks away.

"You write fast." Leo mutters, half impressed.

"I write because when it comes to me."

Another moment passes, Leo's eyes linger on a particular paragraph.

He glances up and asks, "Why does your main character always run from people?"

Davis freezes, "What do you mean?"

"In every scene, he's leaving. Avoiding. Saying something and then walking out. Why?"

"That a performance note?"

Leo shrugs. "Call it curiosity."

"Maybe." Davis says, sharper than he means to, "because people keep chasing him."

Their eyes lock.

For a moment, neither of them speaks. The script lies open between them like a dare. Leo tilts his head slightly, like he's trying to read Davis between the lines.

"Is that your way of saying I ask too many questions?"

"It's my way of saying you should shut up."

Leo doesn't flinch. "Too late."

They don't speak much after that. Silence envelopes the room, not heavy just inconvenient. Leo reads the scripts. Davis fidgets. The door creaks open, and the rest of the crew filters in, the tech twins- Mason and Kayden, Ren with her unnecessary clapperboard.

The group settles in loosely, sitting around mismatched desks pushed together like a make do rehearsal space.

Davis hands them the scripts. "We'll read through scene one today." He says, trying to sound friendly.

Leo already has his copy open, pen tapping rhythmically against the desk. The same damn rhythm as Davis's heartbeat.

They start reading. It's messy, full of stumbles and awkward pauses, but then... Leo delivers a line, with an intensity no one saw coming. The room shifted.

"I don't run." Leo said. "I vanish. It's different."

No one laughs.

No one blinks.

Davis forgets to breathe.

Leo doesn't look at him, but he doesn't have to. The line is too sharp, too honest, like he meant it for Davis alone.

Ren blinks slowly and says with a small chuckle, "Well. That's chemistry."

Davis stands too fast. "Meeting's over."

He rushes out quickly.

No one argued.

The rustle of papers and scraping chairs fills the silence as the group disperses. Leo doesn't move right away.

✦ ✦ ✦

Outside, Leo stood on the stairwell landing, earbuds in and hoodie drawn up tight, as if the evening breeze might try to get answers out of him.

The rehearsal was over but the line was still echoing in his chest.

He wasn't supposed to say it, not in the tone he did.

"I don't run. I vanish."

He said it because it was written that way, or at least he thought it was. But something in Davis's expression after he delivered the line, like he was caught off guard by his own writing. Stuck with him more than the line itself.

Leo reached in his pocket and pulled out his phone. Opens the voice memo app and records that line again. But softer this time.

He didn't listen to it this time. He hits save and shoves the phone away like it burned.

He leans against the railing and stared up the sky. It looked fake, almost washed out with too many stars, like some film student had over edited the exposure.

Pondering on his thoughts he wonders. Davis had looked at him like the words weren't meant to be heard out loud. Like he had stolen something he wasn't supposed to touch.

And maybe he had.

Leo sighs and tilts his head back, closing his eyes.

This wasn't supposed to be personal, so why did it feel like it already was.

✦ ✦ ✦

Davis opens the draft and told himself it was just a tweak.

One line.

A small adjustment.

Nothing serious.

He'd made worse edits at 2 a.m. before coffee.

This was nothing.

The document loaded slowly, as if it knew. The line blinked back at him from the middle of the screen.

"I don't run. I vanish. It's different."

He stared at it.

And then he heard it. Leo's voice, low and controlled, cutting through the messy chaos of that rehearsal.

That stupid line had sounded right when Leo said it. Worse than right.

It had sounded real.

Davis hadn't meant it that way.

It wasn't even a line he liked. He had written it in a rush, trying to finish a scene with too many metaphors and too little sleep. It wasn't supposed to matter.

But Leo had made it matter.

He'd said it like he knew it. Like he was saying it to someone.

To Davis.

Davis lets his fingers hover over the keyboard.

He hits backspace.

Pauses

Undoes it.

Stares at it again.

And deletes the line...again

And this time, it stayed gone.

He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hands over his face like that might erase the voice echoing in his head.

Leo freaking Hallings.

He wasn't supposed to be part of this. He wasn't supposed to fit.

Davis clicked to a new line in the document. Blank space stared back at him.

The line had disappeared, but Leo's voice and they way he had delivered the line echoed through his mind over and over again.

He sighs

His jaw clenches.

He didn't want to write about Leo.

So why couldn't he write anything else?

Davis rubbed his eyes. Stared at the screen again.

Nothing. Nothing came.

Just white space and that annoying, blinking cursor.

He clicked out. Opened a blank document, not to start something new.

Just to... empty it somewhere.

The title typed itself:

Scene Two.

He stared at the line for a while. Hands in his lap. Jaw tight.

Then finally, like the words had been sitting behind his teeth all evening, he types

He walks into every room like he's got nothing to hide, and I can't stop looking for what's missing.