Chapter Text
The gym is packed. Foldable chairs in crooked rows, crepe paper streamers in school colors fluttering from the ceiling, and the stage decked out with a half-crooked sign that reads Congratulations, Class of 20XX! in glitter paint.
Euijoo’s hands are steady as he clutches his diploma and the small golden pin that marks his fencing distinction. His tie is slightly askew from all the hugs his mother’s already given him, and his older sister is waving a hand-painted sign that reads BEST STUDENT, BEST BROTHER, BEST EVERYTHING.
Nicholas stands beside him with his own diploma, a tiny silver medal pinned to his lapel—athletics recognition, of course. He wore his cleanest white button-down, the one Euijoo ironed for him the night before. His hair is a little windswept, his grin more crooked than usual, but his eyes are bright.
His parents aren’t there.
They moved back to Taiwan earlier that year, and his sister had college midterms she couldn’t miss. But Nicholas doesn’t mind—not really. Because when the cheers rise from the audience, it’s Euijoo’s mom shouting “That’s my boy!” for both of them.
“Smile more or I’ll trip you on the stage stairs,” Euijoo whispers as they wait for their names to be called.
Nicholas rolls his eyes. “Try it and I’ll take your fencing medal hostage.”
When Euijoo’s name is called, the room erupts. Nicholas claps the loudest.
And when it’s time for the final speech, Euijoo walks up to the podium with perfect posture, taking a steadying breath before he begins. He’s composed. Clear. Gentle and warm, like he always is when he’s really speaking from the heart.
He thanks their teachers, their classmates, their school. He makes a joke that gets everyone laughing. He talks about the future, about uncertainty and hope and effort.
And near the end, he says this:
“High school gave us so many things—good and bad. But for me… the best thing it gave me was my best friend. Someone who stood by me through every mess and every moment. So if I’m walking into the future with anyone… I’m really glad it’s him.”
Nicholas’s eyes burn. But he keeps smiling.
After the ceremony, it’s chaos. People hugging, snapping blurry photos, signing yearbooks with shaky markers.
But Nicholas and Euijoo don’t need to rush. They take their time. They stand close, take too many pictures, hold each other just a little tighter than the camera can see.
“I guess this is it,” someone says near them, one of their classmates crying into another’s shoulder.
“Hope to see you soon!” someone else shouts as they disappear into the crowd.
Nicholas looks at Euijoo, and Euijoo looks right back.
There’s nothing to hope for.
They already know.
They’re not going anywhere.