The silence had a shape now.
It followed us through the gates.
Trailed down the corridors.
Hovered just behind every locker door and classroom whisper.
Not hateful, exactly.
Just heavy.
Like everyone had seen something they didn't know how to unsee.
We walked in hand-in-hand anyway.
Some people stared.
Some looked away too fast.
Others smiled that half-curious, half-polite kind of smile that says I don't get it, but I'm pretending I do.
And a few… didn't smile at all.
In chemistry class, a girl from the back row leaned forward.
"I liked the photo," she said to Rose, too casually. "You both looked kind of like a couple in a drama or something."
Rose turned slowly. "We are."
The girl blinked, surprised like she expected denial. Maybe a joke.
"Oh," she said. "Cool."
In the locker hall, I heard someone behind us say, "It's just a phase. She'll end up with a guy like everyone else."
I turned.
Not to confront just to look.
And somehow, that was worse.
The boy blushed and ducked his head. "I didn't mean"
"You did," I said. "Just own it."
Rose reached over, touched my shoulder.
I exhaled. Let it go.
We kept walking.
At lunch, Hana sat with us.
No questions. No tension.
Just pulled out her milk tea, popped the straw in, and said, "So, what are we doing about the graduation prank?"
I blinked. "Seriously?"
She smirked. "What? You think just because you're dating now, we're gonna stop being delinquents in secret?"
Rose laughed. Actually laughed.
Something in my chest loosened.
But not everything was easy.
That afternoon, one of the teachers pulled Rose aside after class.
I waited by the window. Watched through the glass as he spoke low and carefully.
She nodded.
And nodded again.
Then walked out, jaw tight.
"He said some of the faculty are 'concerned,'" she told me. "Said maybe we shouldn't draw so much attention to ourselves. That it's a 'distraction.'"
"Distraction to who?" I asked.
"To the ones who've never had to explain why they hold hands in the hallway."
We didn't kiss in the hall that day.
But we didn't stop walking close.
Didn't stop reaching for each other when the world looked away.
Because what we had wasn't for anyone's approval.
It wasn't a statement.
It wasn't rebellion.
It was love.
Messy, quiet, beautiful love.
And if it echoed through the hallways, let it.
Because we weren't echoing anyone else.
We were making our own sound.