A Moment Outside the Spotlight

The sky was a soft shade of dusk when Ria finally caught up to Kael. She found him outside, just beyond the school's main doors, walking toward the gate with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. His shoulders were hunched slightly, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his back. The air was cool, with the faint hint of autumn creeping in, and the sounds of the school were fading into the distance behind them—students heading home, conversations trailing off into nothing.

Ria quickened her pace to match his, her footsteps light against the pavement. She wasn't sure what she was going to say, but she knew they couldn't keep avoiding this. Not after the way he had been during rehearsal. Not after the way Ethan had taken over the room, the group, the energy.

"Kael," she called out softly, stepping up beside him.

He didn't look at her right away, but he slowed his pace, his head tilting slightly in acknowledgment. His face was hard to read, the usual spark in his eyes dimmed to something much more distant.

"Hey," he said, his voice quiet.

Ria matched his steps, the two of them walking side by side along the path that led to the school gate. The bus stop wasn't far, but the walk felt longer than usual, like the weight of everything unsaid was stretching the distance between them.

"You didn't stick around after rehearsal," Ria said, trying to keep her tone light. "Everything okay?"

Kael let out a small, humorless laugh, shaking his head slightly. "Define 'okay.'"

Ria bit her lip, unsure how to respond. She wanted to push, to tell him that she had seen him pulling back, that everyone had noticed, but she didn't want to make him feel cornered. Not yet.

"You've been quiet lately," she said after a moment. "More than usual. I mean, you barely said anything during the announcement today."

Kael shrugged, still not looking at her. "There wasn't much to say. Ms. Reyes made it pretty clear—we've got our work cut out for us if we want to make it to regionals, let alone states."

"You're usually the one leading the charge when something like this comes up," Ria pressed gently. "But it feels like you're... I don't know, letting things happen without you."

Kael finally stopped walking, his eyes flicking up to meet hers. For a moment, they just stood there, the quiet of the evening settling between them. He looked tired—more tired than she'd ever seen him. The dark circles under his eyes, the lines of strain in his face, the tension in his jaw... it was all there, plain as day.

"I don't know if I can do this, Ria," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Ria's heart sank. She had expected him to say something like that, but hearing it out loud made it real. She searched his face, looking for the Kael she had always known—the leader, the one who never backed down, the one who always found a way to make things happen. But all she saw now was a boy who was unraveling.

"You don't have to do it alone," she said softly. "We're all here. You don't have to carry everything on your own."

Kael let out a slow breath, his eyes dropping to the ground. "It's not about carrying everything. It's about... I don't feel like I'm me anymore. You know?"

Ria blinked, her chest tightening. "What do you mean?"

Kael ran a hand through his hair, his expression pained. "I don't feel like the guy who can lead this group anymore. I'm losing control. I forget things—small things, big things... it's all slipping, and I'm scared that if I don't step back, I'm going to let everyone down."

Ria's throat tightened, the words he had said to her before—the ones about his illness, his struggle—echoing in her mind. She knew this was about more than just the play. It was about everything—the tumor, the treatments, the way his body and mind were betraying him in ways he couldn't control.

"You're not letting anyone down," Ria said, her voice steady. "But you can't keep doing this alone, Kael. You're not superhuman. You need to let people help you."

Kael shook his head, his frustration spilling out in a quiet burst. "But that's just it, Ria. I was the guy who could do it all. Who could lead, who could handle the pressure. And now I'm... I'm just this."

His voice cracked, and for the first time, Ria saw the cracks in him—the fear, the frustration, the pain of losing the person he had always been.

She took a step closer, her eyes soft. "Kael, you're still you. You're still the guy who brings everyone together, who makes the club what it is. But it's okay if you need to take a step back sometimes. No one's expecting you to be perfect."

Kael's shoulders sagged, and for a moment, it looked like he might say something else, something more. But instead, he just let out another long breath and started walking again, his pace slower this time.

Ria followed, her heart aching for him. She didn't know how to fix this, how to make him see that he was still the same Kael to everyone who mattered. But she knew one thing—she wasn't going to let him drift away without a fight.

As they reached the gate, Kael finally spoke again, his voice quiet. "Ethan's better for the lead anyway."

Ria frowned, taken aback. "What?"

Kael stopped walking, his gaze fixed on the bus stop up ahead. "Ethan. He's got that spark, that energy the play needs. You saw him in the scene today—he was great. He's got what it takes to lead the cast."

Ria stared at him, her mind racing. "Kael, Ethan's good, but he's not you. This is your role, your moment."

Kael gave her a small, sad smile. "Maybe it was. But I don't know if it is anymore."

Ria's chest tightened. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, that he could still lead, still be the one to take them to regionals, to states, to nationals if they worked hard enough. But deep down, she knew Kael wasn't just talking about the play anymore. He was talking about himself—about the way he was losing pieces of who he used to be, about how the tumor was taking more than just his memories.

And she didn't know how to fight that.

The bus pulled up to the curb, and Kael turned to her, his smile still soft, still full of that bittersweet acceptance that broke her heart. "I'll see you tomorrow, Ria."

"Yeah," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "See you tomorrow."

Kael boarded the bus, his figure disappearing into the shadows as the doors closed behind him. Ria stood there for a long moment, watching as the bus pulled away, her heart heavy with the weight of everything that had been left unsaid.

Tomorrow.

She didn't know how much longer Kael could keep saying that—how much longer he could keep pretending everything was okay when it wasn't.

And for the first time, Ria wasn't sure if tomorrow was going to be enough.