Chapter Text
Sua didn’t like loud places.
She didn’t like echoing hallways or eyes that lingered too long. She didn’t like doors that opened into full classrooms or the way her voice always sounded quieter than she meant it to.
So of course her first day at her new school had all of those things in spades.
She adjusted the strap of her messenger bag as the main hallway unfolded before her, flooded with students who seemed to know exactly where they were going. Laughter bounced off the lockers. Someone high-fived someone else too hard. A couple leaned too close by the vending machines. A group of girls in pink and gold walked past like a coordinated flock of birds.
She kept her head down and moved with purpose.
The only good part about this hellish setup was that she didn’t have to face it completely alone.
“Sua” came the familiar voice, already grating.
Ivan.
He towered over her like always, even with his posture half-leaning against her locker. His hoodie was a size too big, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, basketball tucked under one arm like it was permanently attached to him.
“You survived the homeroom,” he said. “I’m honestly impressed.”
“Don’t talk to me like I almost died,” she muttered, spinning her lock. “It was just a bunch of staring.”
“Exactly,” he said, grinning. “That’s practically murder for you.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not anti-social.”
“I didn’t say that,” Ivan said. “But you do look like a haunted librarian.”
“I am not a haunted librarian,” she said flatly. “Go away.”
Instead, he bumped his shoulder lightly against hers.
There was something weirdly comforting about having him around, even if he never shut up. They’d grown up more like siblings than cousins, and now that their families had moved close again, they’d picked up where they left off, mostly him annoying her and her pretending not to care.
“Anyway,” Ivan said, drawing out the word. “I figured I should warn you.”
Sua closed her locker and gave him a suspicious look. “About what.”
“Someone noticed you.”
She froze.
Ivan smirked. “Don’t panic. It’s just Mizi.”
“Mizi?”
His grin widened. “You’ll know her when you see her.”
She did. It didn’t take long for her to know who Mizi was.
The next period was biology. She slipped into class early, choosing a seat near the window, always safer, always quieter. The classroom gradually filled, and then-
Then she walked in. Sua didn't need to know the name but the girl but could already guess who she was from Ivans warning
High ponytail swinging, jacket slipping off one glittery shoulder, nails glinting like blades. Her laughter rang out before she even spoke, light and effortless. She didn’t sit immediately, she floated, leaned, greeted. Someone handed her a phone. Someone else passed her a lip gloss. She fit in like she owned the room.
Mizi. Of course it was Mizi. And for a second, just a second, their eyes met. It wasn’t long. It wasn’t anything. But it was something. And Sua looked away immediately. She started to build her daily plan around avoiding her. Mizi was always at the front left of the cafeteria, so Sua sat back right. Mizi walked down the center hallway after lunch, Sua took the side stairs. Mizi’s voice was distinct, honey-bright and casual, so whenever she heard it, Sua made a point to go the opposite direction. It was stupid. Irrational. She knew that. But something about the way Mizi existed made Sua feel like a fire alarm had gone off in her head. Too bright. Too confident. Too unpredictable. The last thing Sua wanted was to be noticed by someone like her. So naturally, she became hyper-aware of every time it happened. A glance across the library. A look held one second too long in the hallway. A moment in gym class where Mizi, passing by with her cheer squad, paused, just slightly, before turning her head. Each time, Sua told herself it was a coincidence. Each time, it felt less like one. It wasn’t like she disliked Mizi. She didn’t know her. That was the point. But people like her had always been a problem from the start. Too popular. Too loud. Too much. And Mizi didn’t seem mean, but that made it worse.
Because if she wasn’t fake, if she was genuinely kind, then Sua didn’t know how to react. And she hated not knowing. So she kept her head down. Focused on notes. Doodled equations in her margins. Spoke when called on and nothing more. She didn’t need friends. So of course, fate had to get involved. It came in the form of a group project in history class.
“Groups of two,” Mr. larry announced, in his usual monotone. “Pick someone you haven’t worked with before. It’s good for you.”
Sua’s stomach dropped. Immediately, the familiar panic set in. She glanced around, hoping praying someone else would make eye contact, someone normal, someone quiet. Someone safe. But people were already pairing off. Fast. Desperate. And before she could move or think or bolt, a shadow fell across her desk.
“You and me, library kid.”
She blinked up. Mizi. Of course.
Her golden-hazel eyes sparkled in a way that made Sua’s brain skip. That ridiculous pink jacket had glitter on the sleeves. And she had the audacity, the actual audacity to wink.
Sua stared at her like she’d spoken a language she didn’t understand.
“What?” Sua asked, because apparently that was the only word still functioning in her vocabulary.
“I said we’re partners.” Mizi flipped her ponytail back. “Unless you’ve got some secret twin hiding under the desk. Which, honestly, would be kind of iconic.”
“I…” Sua scrambled. “There’s other people. I mean, I’m sure someone else—”
“Nope,” Mizi chirped, already sliding into the seat next to her. “You’re the only one I haven’t worked with. Also, I’m pretty sure you’re a genius, so. Bonus.”
Sua’s brain short-circuited for a second. “I’m not—”
“Don’t be modest,” Mizi said, propping her chin in her palm and watching her. “You aced that pop quiz last week. I saw.”
“You looked at my grade?”
Mizi didn’t even blink. “Girl, I look at everything.”
Sua sank lower into her seat. Her hands clenched in her lap. She’d done everything to be invisible. And now Mizi, a human neon sign, was parked beside her like it was completely normal.
Mizi didn’t seem fazed by her silence, though. She hummed softly under her breath and twirled a pen between her fingers, her gaze flicking to Sua every few seconds like she was waiting for something. Maybe a freakout. Maybe a laugh.
But Sua didn’t give her anything. Not yet.
That didn’t stop Mizi, of course. Nothing ever seemed to.
“So, history project,” Mizi said brightly. “You wanna do a boring timeline or spice it up with a reenactment? I have wigs.”
Sua stared at her.
Mizi shrugged. “Just saying. you could totally slay in that.”
“I don’t wear wigs,” Sua muttered.
Mizi grinned. “You’d look cute in one.”
Sua nearly choked on air.
Against every self preserving instinct in her body, Sua showed up. She told herself it was for the grade. The first time they worked on the project outside school was at Mizi’s house.
Ivan had insisted on walking Sua there, mostly to annoy her. She threatened to throw her calculator at him if he followed her inside.
“Tell Mizi I said hi,” he smirked, already backing away.
“She already sees you every day, you walking cliche.”
He just winked and jogged off.
Mizi opened the door barefoot, wearing an oversized strawberry printed hoodie and round glasses. Her hair was down and slightly messy. It should’ve made her less intimidating yet It didn’t.
“You came,” Mizi beamed, stepping aside.
“I said I would.”
“Still counts.”
They worked at the kitchen counter. Mizi brewed tea. Sua typed most of the notes. Mizi told a lot of stories about school, people Sua didn’t know, dumb videos she’d seen. Every time Sua zoned out, Mizi would nudge her foot under the table or slide a cookie toward her with a wink. It was weirdly domestic. And dangerous. Because Mizi was funny. And kind. And not what Sua expected.
She caught herself watching the way Mizi’s glasses slipped down her nose when she laughed. She looked away fast. Too fast.
By the next week, people had started whispering.
Ivan smirked when he heard them. “You and Mizi, huh?”
Sua elbowed him in the ribs. “Shut. Up.”
“Relax,” he said. “I ship it.”
“You’re the reason people think she’s dating me!”
Ivan shrugged. “Let ‘em think what they want.”
Till, who had been lurking behind the vending machines sketching something as usual, shot them both a look.
Ivan grinned at him. “Miss me?”
Till flipped him off without even pausing his pencil strokes.
Sua rolled her eyes. “You have a type.”
“Tall, moody, and looks like he listens to music that hurts his own feelings? Yeah, guess I do.” ivan says with a smug
The project wrapped up faster than expected. They’d finished early. It was supposed to be a relief.
But now Sua didn’t have an excuse to talk to Mizi anymore.
She tried to ignore that fact.
Tried even harder when Mizi still waved at her in the hallways.
Still smiled.
Still showed up next to her locker like it was her locker.
“Wanna come to the game this Friday?” Mizi asked one morning, leaning into Sua’s space.
Sua blinked. “Why would I?”
“Support your cousin slash brother?”
“Ivan doesn’t need support. He needs a leash.”
Mizi snorted. “Fair. But I’ll be cheering. And it’s kinda tradition for people to come.”
“I don’t do traditions.”
“You do look like someone who’s been cursed by one,” Mizi mused, tapping her chin.
“Was that a compliment?”
“Depends. Did it make you blush?”
“I don’t blush,” Sua said, heat crawling up her neck anyway.
Mizi’s grin was predatory. “Liar.”
Friday came faster than expected.
Sua sat in the stands, hoodie drawn tight, notebook in her lap (just in case). Ivan waved dramatically when he saw her. Till was three rows down, headphones in, pretending not to exist.
Then Mizi ran onto the court.
All glitter and confidence and power.
The crowd cheered.
But Mizi only seemed to look one way up, toward Sua. She waved.
And Sua, before she could stop herself, lifted her fingers in the smallest, most traitorous wave back. Her heart thudded. This was going to be a problem.
After the game, the halls behind the gym smelled like sweat and popcorn. Students filtered out in loud clusters, but Sua kept to the side, fingers clenched around the strap of her bag. She didn’t know why she stayed after the buzzer. She should’ve left the second Ivan did his stupid dramatic wink from the court. But her feet didn’t move. Her body didn’t listen. She was regretting that now.
“There you are,” Mizi called out, breathless and smiling like she didn’t just flip and cartwheel her way through four quarters of school spirit. “I thought you ghosted me.”
Sua looked at her. Then kept walking. “I was. You intercepted.”
Mizi laughed and jogged to catch up, ponytail swinging, still in her uniform crop top clinging, skirt swaying, skin glowing under the fluorescent lights.
She was a walking distraction.
Unfortunately, she knew it.
“So?” Mizi asked. “What’d you think?”
“About what?”
“The game. Me. The cheer routine. My triple spin at the end. C’mon, I know you saw it.”
“I saw a lot of screaming,” Sua said dryly. “And sequins. Something exploded.”
“It was confetti.”
“It looked like a murder scene in a Barbie factory.”
Mizi gasped, hand flying to her chest. “That’s the best thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“I wasn’t complimenting you.”
“But you were. In your own emotionally stunted way, sarcasm is my love language kind of way.”
“I don’t do love languages,” Sua said, turning a corner sharply. “I barely do speaking.”
Mizi trailed after her anyway. “That’s okay. I speak enough for both of us.”
“That’s not a good thing.”
“It is when I’m flirting.”
“You’re not flirting with me,” Sua said, already annoyed that she had to say it out loud. “You’re doing… whatever this is. A game. A joke. I don’t know. But it’s not flirting.”
Mizi stopped walking. Sua didn’t realize until her footsteps echoed solo for a few beats too long. She paused. Turned back. Mizi was just standing there in the middle of the hall, glittering, glowing, looking almost… serious.
“You really think I’d waste this much time if it was a joke?” she asked, voice low.
Sua crossed her arms. “I think people like you like attention. And I’m new. And weird. And easy to mess with.”
Mizi’s brow furrowed, lips pressing into a line. The silence between them stretched too quiet for comfort, too loud to ignore.
“I don’t need to mess with anyone,” she said, softer now. “I get attention whether I want it or not. But you? You don’t give it back. And that makes me want it more.”
Sua blinked. Her throat went tight.
Mizi stepped closer, just a little.
“I like your weirdness,” she said. “I like your smartness. I like that you glare at me like I’ve ruined your life. It’s cute.”
Sua’s heart stuttered.
She scowled. “You’re insane.”
Mizi grinned again, like the sun had clicked back on. “See? Cute.”
Sua turned on her heel. “You’re exhausting.”
“You’ll miss me when I’m gone.”
“That’s optimistic.”
But she didn’t tell her to stop following.
The next Monday, Mizi was waiting outside her locker again, leaning with one foot kicked up, blowing bubblegum and chatting with some sophomore who looked like they were about to faint. When Sua approached, the sophomore disappeared in a cloud of nerves.
Mizi beamed. “Hey, partner in crime.”
“We turned the project in last week.”
“Yeah, but the crime part continues. I’ve decided we’re doing illegal field research for extra credit.”
“You’ve decided?”
“I did. It’s happening. Friday night. Library’s doing that haunted history tour thing, right?”
Sua narrowed her eyes. “How do you know where I spend my Friday nights?”
Mizi wiggled her fingers. “Magic. And Instagram. You’re tagged in like two pictures, but one of them is Ivan holding your bag and looking like he’s about to die.”
“He was about to die,” Sua muttered.
“Anyway,” Mizi said, ignoring the murderous look. “I’m coming with you this time. We’ll make it spooky.”
“I don’t do spooky.”
“You don’t do fun,” Mizi corrected, already pulling out a pink glitter pen to scribble something into her planner. “But I’m here to fix that.”
“I’m a lost cause.”
Mizi gave her a pointed look. “That’s loser talk. And I don’t chase losers.”
“Yet here you are.”
“Exactly,” Mizi said, eyes twinkling. “Think about what that means.”
Sua closed her locker hard enough to make Mizi’s glasses slip.
But she didn’t say no.
Later, at lunch, Ivan dropped his tray beside her and stole one of her fries without asking.
“She winked at you again,” he said.
Sua stabbed her mashed potatoes with more force than necessary. “She winks at everyone.”
“Nah. That one had sauce.”
“Please never say that again.”
He laughed. “So when are you confessing?”
“Never.”
“She's cute.”
“She’s annoying.”
“Same thing.”
Till, sitting across from them with his sketchpad raised like a barrier, muttered, “You’re both loud.”
Ivan grinned. “You’re just mad you didn’t get a wink.”
Till flipped the page aggressively.
Sua just sighed and shoved another bite into her mouth. Everything was spiraling, and fast. But for some reason, she didn’t try to stop it anymore. Not really. Maybe because part of her, the part she didn’t want to admit existed, was starting to wonder what would happen if she stopped hiding. Just for a second. Just long enough to find out if the glitter and the gloss and the golden eyes were actually hiding something too.
Ivan nudged Sua with his elbow. “You like her.”
She didn’t even dignify it with a response. Just shoved a spoonful of mashed potatoes into her mouth like that would shut him up. (It wouldn’t.)
He leaned in closer, sing-song voice low. “Suuua’s got a cru-ush.”
She elbowed him in return. Hard. “I will bury you.”
Ivan laughed like he wasn’t one bruise away from eating his words. Across the cafeteria, Mizi waved. Sua ducked.
This wasn’t how she expected high school to go.
She wanted something simple. She wanted something quiet. She wanted something predictable schedules and anonymous test scores and a clear path to graduation. But now her path was glitter-strewn, Mizi-shaped chaos. And for some unfathomable reason, she wasn’t running from it as fast as she should.
Maybe she was tired of running.
Or maybe she was starting to wonder what it would be like to be seen and not just seen, but actually known.
Because somehow, Mizi wasn’t looking through her like most people did. She was looking right at her. And Sua, against her better judgment, was starting to look back.