SEASON OF US

If Lyra asked to pinpoint the exact moment she, Suzie, Walter, and Arlo became friends, she'd probably come up blank. There wasn't some grand, cinematic moment that sealed their bond—no hilarious mishap or dramatic pact. It just… happened. Slowly, naturally, they grew used to each other until their presence felt like an unshakable part of life.

It all started back in high school, when Lyra and Suzie ended up as desk mates.

Suzie, ever the bubbly social butterfly, was already chatting up half the class, while Lyra preferred watching from the sidelines. She didn't mind being alone, but Suzie kept pulling her in—asking about homework, commenting on something random from class, or tossing out jokes that didn't need a reply.

Over time, Lyra warmed to Suzie's constant chatter. The short-haired girl had a habit of sharing candy or snacks during lessons, and though Lyra brushed it off at first, she eventually just accepted them without a fuss.

They started hitting the cafeteria together. Suzie had a knack for roping Lyra into group conversations, and even if Lyra stayed quiet, she'd listen and chime in just enough.

Then came Walter.

The guy with slightly messy black hair sat near the classroom window. He wasn't a big talker but could hold a conversation with anyone without missing a beat. During breaks, he'd often be lost in his music until one day Suzie plopped down and asked what he was listening to.

From there, the three of them started hanging out more. Suzie dragged Walter to their lunch table, and Lyra, already used to her, just went along. Before they knew it, eating together became their thing, like it was always meant to be.

Arlo was the last to join.

He wasn't in their class but had been Walter's friend since middle school. They'd cross paths in the cafeteria, and Walter would wave him over. Arlo, with his laid-back, watchful vibe, fit in easily. He didn't talk much, but when he did, he always had something worth hearing.

He was also the first to notice something about Lyra—that she listened more than she spoke, observed more than she interrupted.

And for some reason, Arlo liked that.

He started talking to her more, tossing out random topics that somehow always clicked—books he was reading, weird conspiracy theories he'd found online, or just light banter about how people hold umbrellas in the rain. Lyra didn't always say much, but Arlo's presence felt like a quiet break from Suzie and Walter's noise.

There was no big moment that tied the four of them together.

No sworn oaths of eternal friendship, no written vows to stick by each other.

They just… clicked.

After school, they'd walk together to the intersection before splitting off toward home. Suzie and Lyra would sometimes stop by a bookstore or convenience store, with Walter and Arlo tagging along now and then. Group projects? They'd end up on the same team without even trying.

Back then, they didn't think about the future or what might change.

They just lived in those light, easy days.

Days filled with laughter, teasing, and casual cafeteria chats. They studied together, walked home together, even made a habit of hitting a nearby café every weekend.

Lyra could still recall those little moments that felt so small back then but now shimmered like precious fragments of memory.

Like their first time piling onto a bus for a school festival, Walter and Arlo bickering over the window seat while Suzie tugged Lyra to sit next to her, insisting on snapping a ton of pictures.

Or that rainy season when they huddled under a rickety bus stop shelter, sharing umbrellas even though their uniforms still got soaked.

Or that summer day at the beach, when Suzie shrieked as Walter splashed her with seawater, Arlo laughing in the background, filming it all on his phone. Lyra, as always, just smiled quietly, her heart warm watching them so happy.

Back then, they thought it would always be like that.

They never imagined things could shift—that they could drift apart, hurt each other, or question their place in each other's lives.

Back then, everything was simple.

They were just four high school kids, basking in carefree moments together.

But time moves on. Feelings evolve. Life doesn't let things stay the same. And now… maybe it's all falling apart.

It wasn't anyone's fault. Not Robin's. Not Suzie's, Walter's, or Arlo's.

Maybe that's just how fate works. Maybe love—or whatever this was—changed things, not to destroy but to force them to face truths they'd been dodging.

But was love really to blame?

It's like a breeze that slips in uninvited, warming or shaking things up before either settling or drifting away. No one knows when it arrives, and worse, no one knows when it might fade.

So who's to blame?

Since that night, something shifted in Lyra's world.

Days passed without texts from Suzie or Walter. No more lunch invites popping up, no more light banter during downtime. Even Arlo, usually the group's bridge, stayed quiet.

But the strangest part was how Lyra felt.

She should've been grieving the fading friendship. There should've been a hollow ache. Yet, woven into that emptiness was something else—relief.

No more forcing herself to keep pace with them. No more pretending she was fine watching Suzie and Walter lost in their romance. No more being their shadow.

Was that wrong? Selfish?

Lyra had promised herself to put herself first. No room for regrets.

Still, a small wound lingered in her heart. Part of her missed the warmth of their friendship, longed for the days when things were simple.

But she knew the past couldn't be rewound. No matter how tightly she held on, what was cracked couldn't always be made whole.

Now, walking alone, she should've felt lonely. There should've been an emptiness where they once were. But somehow, she didn't feel alone.

Because someone was still by her side.

Robin. That guy. The one who showed up without being asked, offering his shoulder when the world felt heavy. Who sent simple texts reminding her to eat. Who checked in to make sure she was okay, even when she didn't realize she was faltering.

Small things, maybe trivial to some, but to Lyra, they meant everything.

And now, when her mind should've been clouded with the crumbling of her old friendships, it was his face that surfaced, making her smile.

Funny, right?

What if it wasn't Suzie, Walter, or Arlo who'd truly been her home all along?

What if Robin—the snarky, sometimes stubborn communications major—was the one meant to be her friend?

Or maybe… something more?

She didn't know for sure.

What she did know was that Robin wasn't just there to chase away her gloom. He helped her see something she'd never noticed before.

That she was enough. That she deserved to be chosen.

And for the first time, she wanted to choose someone—not because she had to, but she truly wanted to.

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It wasn't anyone's fault. Not Robin's. Not Suzie's, Walter's, or Arlo's.

Maybe that's just how fate works. Maybe love—or whatever this was—changed everything, not to tear them apart but to force them to face truths they'd been avoiding.

But was love really to blame?

It's like a breeze that slips in uninvited, warming or unsettling, lingering or drifting away. No one knows when it shows up, and worse, no one knows when it might vanish.

So who's to blame?

Since that night, something shifted in Lyra's world.

Days passed without a single text from Suzie or Walter. No lunch invites buzzing her phone, no casual chats filling the gaps in her day. Even Arlo, usually the glue holding them together, stayed silent.

But the strangest thing was what stirred inside her.

She should've felt loss, a hollow ache for the friendship fading away. Yet, amid that emptiness, there was something else—relief.

No more forcing herself to keep up with their pace. No more faking a smile while Suzie and Walter got lost in each other. No more being their shadow.

Was that wrong? Selfish?

Lyra had promised herself to put herself first. No space for regrets.

Still, a quiet wound lingered in her heart. Part of her missed the warmth of their friendship, ached for the days when everything was simple.

But she knew the past couldn't be rewound. No matter how tightly she clung, what was broken couldn't always be fixed.

Now, walking alone, she should've felt lonely. There should've been a void where they once stood. But somehow, she didn't feel alone.

Because someone was still there, walking beside her.

Robin. That guy. The one who showed up without being asked, offering his shoulder when the world felt too heavy. Who sent simple texts nudging her to eat. Who checked on her, even when she didn't realize she was faltering.

Small gestures, maybe trivial to some, but to Lyra, they were everything.

And now, when her mind should've been clouded with the wreckage of her old friendships, it was his face that surfaced, coaxing a smile.

Funny, isn't it?

What if Suzie, Walter, and Arlo weren't her true home all along?

What if Robin—the snarky, sometimes stubborn communications major—was the one meant to be her friend?

Or maybe… something more?

She didn't know for sure.

What she did know was that Robin wasn't just there to chase away her gloom. He helped her see something she'd never noticed before.

That she was enough. That she deserved to be chosen.

And for the first time, she wanted to choose someone—not because she had to, but because she truly wanted to.

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That night, Lyra sat on the edge of her bed, phone clutched tightly in her hand. Her fingers hesitated before finally hitting the call button. The dial tone hummed in her ear until her mom's warm voice answered on the other end.

"Lyra! I was just about to call you," came the cheerful greeting.

A small smile tugged at Lyra's lips. "Guess I beat you to it."

"No worries, sweetheart. How're you holding up?"

Lyra let out a soft sigh. Such a simple question, but so hard to answer. Was she okay? Truly okay? She wasn't sure herself. Still, she didn't want to worry her mom.

"I'm good," she said, trying to sound light. "Nothing to stress about."

Her mom chuckled. "You always say that."

In the background, Lyra caught her dad's muffled voice asking who was on the phone. Moments later, his deep voice joined in.

"My little girl! How'd those exams go?"

Lyra laughed softly. "Not bad, Dad. Maybe not as stellar as you'd hope, but I'm pretty sure I passed."

"As long as you gave it your all, that's what counts."

The conversation flowed easily—about their daily lives, the weather in her parents' town, their plans for the end of the year. And then, as Lyra had expected, the question came.

"How're your friends doing?"

Her heart skipped a beat. For a moment, she just stared at her phone, as if it held the answer.

What could she say? That they were fighting? That they might not spend New Year's Eve together like always? That she wasn't even sure if there was still a "they" left?

No. She couldn't say that.

"They're…" Lyra swallowed, steadying her voice. "We've all been busy. Exams have been a lot."

"Oh, of course," her mom said, understanding in her tone. "But you still see them, right?"

Lyra managed a faint smile, though her chest ached. "Yeah… now and then."

A brief silence followed, as if her mom sensed something beneath her words. "You sure everything's okay, sweetheart?"

It was a simple question, but for the first time, Lyra felt the urge to be honest. She wanted to admit it felt strange. That something was missing, yet something new was growing inside her. That she was at a crossroads—between letting go and rediscovering who she really was.

But she only sighed softly. "Yeah, Mom. I'm okay." This time, her voice sounded surer.

"Alright, but if anything's up, you call us, okay?"

Lyra nodded, though they couldn't see her. "Promise."

The call wrapped up a few minutes later, filled with warm goodbyes from both her parents. After hanging up, Lyra set her phone down and stared at the ceiling, her thoughts swirling endlessly.

This Christmas and New Year's would feel different. No trip home, no cozy nights with family like before. And maybe… no little celebrations with her friends like there used to be.

But strangely, she didn't feel empty.

Something else stirred in her heart—something she didn't fully grasp yet but was slowly taking root.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Maybe this year would mark the start of something new.

--------

The days after the fight felt… off.

Walter and Suzie carried on as usual, strolling hand-in-hand through snowy streets, grabbing lunch at their favorite spot, chatting about little things that once felt so effortless. But something was missing.

Their table used to feel alive. Suzie would ramble on, Lyra would listen with that calm gaze of hers, tossing in a quiet comment now and then. Arlo would throw in a dry joke, and Walter would spar with him lightly.

Now, the table felt empty, even with them sitting there.

Lyra was gone.

Arlo, though still talking with them here and there, seemed more guarded. Like someone staying neutral but unable to ignore what had gone down.

Suzie pretended everything was fine.

She laughed, teased Walter, filled the silence with her bright voice. But Walter knew she couldn't fully hide what was eating at her. There were moments when she'd go quiet, her eyes drifting, lost in thought.

And he knew exactly who was on her mind.

Like now, as they sat in the cool evening air. Suzie swung her legs lightly, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater without realizing it. Silence hung between them.

Until Walter spoke. "You're thinking about Lyra."

Not a question, just a fact.

Suzie's hands stilled, and she let out a long breath. "Yeah… I just don't get it. When did it all turn into this?"

Walter didn't answer right away. Honestly, he didn't know either. Everything had shifted so fast, like sand slipping through their fingers before they even noticed.

Suzie stared ahead. "I just… I don't want to lose her." Her voice held raw honesty, but a hint of selfishness lingered too. "Maybe I pushed her too hard," she admitted. "But I just wanted things to stay the same. I just wanted her here. That's all I ever asked."

Walter studied her face, catching something he rarely noticed before. "You're mad because Lyra's changing," he said. "But maybe we never really saw things from her side."

Suzie turned, her expression hard to read. "So you're taking her side?"

He shook his head. "I'm not picking sides. I just…" He sighed. "I can't pretend Robin didn't have a point."

Suzie's face tightened. "That guy's always sticking his nose where it doesn't belong."

"It's not about that." Walter leaned back on the bench, gazing at the dimming sky. "We've always been tight. It's been comfortable for us, but have we ever asked if Lyra or Arlo felt the same?"

Suzie went quiet.

She wanted to argue, to insist Lyra was fine. But if that was true, why had it all fallen apart?

"She never said anything…" Suzie murmured, almost to herself.

Walter sighed again. "Maybe that's the problem."

Silence settled over them again, heavier this time.

Something unspoken lingered between them. They couldn't turn back time—only look forward and wonder if there was still a way to mend what was broken.

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Arlo never cared for drama.

He'd always been the guy who stayed quiet, watching from the sidelines. He didn't pick sides when Walter and Suzie started dating. He didn't butt in when Lyra tried to fit in with them. He just observed, understood, but rarely spoke up.

In their group, he was the middleman—not too close to Suzie, not too tight with Lyra, and never too tangled in Walter and Suzie's relationship.

But after the fight, he felt like a stranger.

He still talked to Walter and Suzie, but it wasn't the same. Every word he chose now came with caution.

Suzie vented to him a few times, dropping hints that she wanted him to agree—that Lyra had changed, that she wasn't the person they knew anymore. But Arlo stayed silent. He couldn't pretend to nod along.

On the other hand, he hadn't talked much with Lyra either.

Not because she was pulling away, but because he could sense a gap too wide to bridge. Lyra didn't want to dig into it. Maybe she was tired. Maybe she'd already chosen her path.

And Arlo?

He could only watch everything shift before his eyes, powerless to stop it.

That afternoon, he sat alone on the campus field. It was break time, so the place was nearly deserted.

Arlo let out a long sigh, stirring his drink without any intention of sipping it.

"I'm not picking sides. So why does it feel like I've lost everything?" He knew change was inevitable.

From the start, he'd seen something others missed. He knew Lyra had feelings for Walter. He knew she'd never admit it. And he knew Walter never saw her as more than a friend.

So this wasn't just about Robin crashing their circle.

It was something long buried, finally exploding.

On the snow-dusted ground, he dribbled his basketball, the sound echoing in the cold air.

Taking a deep breath, he tossed the ball toward the hoop. It spun on the rim before dropping in.

Arlo walked over to grab it, then stood still, gazing at the sky flecked with snowflakes. His black bomber jacket was dusted with snow, but he didn't care.

This was where he was now. Alone in the cold night, wondering when things last felt warm.

--------

The night sky dimmed, streaking orange and purple across the horizon. From her apartment window, Lyra watched the city slowly light up with twinkling lights. A melancholic air hung around her, a feeling hard to pin down. New Year's was coming, but there were no plans, no meetups, no one waiting for her.

Her phone buzzed, snapping her out of her thoughts. Robin's name lit up the screen.

Without overthinking, she answered.

"Hey?"

"Lyra." Robin's voice was its usual laid-back self, but there was a curious edge to it. "Got plans for New Year's Eve?"

Lyra frowned, caught off guard. "Huh? What do you mean?"

"You know, plans. Going out with someone? Got a date?"

She let out a small laugh, mostly at herself. "Robin, you know the answer."

He clicked his tongue. "Humor me. I wanna hear it."

Lyra sighed softly. "Nothing. I've got no plans."

A brief pause. Then Robin's voice came back, softer this time. "Not going home to your folks?"

She smiled faintly, though no one could see. "Nope. They're swamped with work since I started college."

"They coming to you, then?"

She shook her head, though he couldn't see it. "Not this time." She took a breath, pushing down the feeling creeping in. "This'll be my second New Year's alone."

Robin didn't reply right away. The line went quiet, just the sound of his breathing on the other end.

"Got it," he said finally, his voice quieter.

Lyra bit her lip. Last year, at least, she'd had Suzie, Walter, and Arlo. They'd piled into Suzie's apartment, set off sparklers on the balcony, laughed at nothing, and counted down to midnight together.

Now, everything was different.

"So…" Robin cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Instead of spending New Year's Eve alone, how about you come with me?"

Lyra blinked. "Where?"

"My place."

She froze. "Wait, what?"

He chuckled softly. "My parents aren't doing anything big, just a low-key dinner, the three of us."

Lyra knew Robin was an only child. The offer sounded simple, but it still caught her by surprise.

"Too much food for just me," he added lightly.

Lyra gripped her phone tighter, her mind spinning. "You sure it's okay?" she asked, her voice almost hesitant.

"Seriously?" Robin snorted. "If I minded, I wouldn't have asked."

"But—"

"Lyra." His voice softened, cutting her off. "I just don't want you to be alone."

Her heart skipped, then thudded again, for no clear reason.

"So?" he prompted.

She smiled faintly. "Alright."

"Sweet." He sounded pleased. "I'll pick you up later. Wear something comfy and warm, yeah?"

"Comfy?" Lyra raised an eyebrow. "Is this a dinner or a therapy session?"

He laughed. "Just don't wear anything fussy. I'm not letting you freeze."

Lyra couldn't hold back a small laugh. "Fine, fine."

"Good." He paused, then added in a lighter tone, "Oh, and Lyra?"

"Hm?"

"I'm glad you're coming."

She went quiet for a beat, then smiled. "Me too."

When the call ended, Lyra stared at her phone, the warmth from their talk lingering.

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