October in Brașov usually feels like a long, deep exhale. The fog settles over Tâmpa in the mornings, and the air in the city turns sharp, scented with roasted chestnuts and the first hints of winter.
Ionique's birthday was approaching, and the tension of the previous month had settled into a fragile truce. To celebrate, Steph and I decided to meet up to find her a gift—a mission that felt like both a peace offering and an excuse to spend three hours together without the watchful eyes of our classmates.
We met at AFI mall. The bright, modern corridors felt strange after our usual walks in the old town. We wandered through the shops, debating between jewelry and stationery, before finally settling on a set of matching "friendship" charms—silver vectors that looked like stylized North Stars—and a soft, oversized hoodie she'd been eyeing for weeks.
"She'll love this," Steph said, holding up the hoodie. "It's exactly her style."
"You're surprisingly good at this," I teased, bumping my shoulder against his as we walked toward the exit.
"I have my moments," he replied, that familiar lopsided grin appearing.
Since we were already out, we decided to head over to Tractorul Park. The annual Oktoberfest was in full swing—a massive, sprawling celebration of music, tents, and the smell of grilled mititei that filled the entire neighborhood. The park was alive with neon lights from the carnival rides and the rhythmic thumping of folk music.
We grabbed some pretzels and found a relatively quiet spot on a low stone wall, away from the main tent. The cold was biting now, and I pulled my sleeves over my hands.
"So," Steph started, leaning back on his elbows. "Did you hear about the drama in 9B today? Apparently, Elena rejected Victor. Right in the middle of the hallway."
I nodded, remembering the awkward silence that had followed. "Yeah. It was brutal. I feel for him, but I get it. They've been friends since kindergarten. Changing that... it's a lot of pressure."
"It's more than that," Steph said, his voice taking on a casual, matter-of-fact tone. He looked out at the spinning lights of the Ferris wheel. "I mean, it's just common sense, isn't it? My parents even told me the same thing when I started high school: 'Never date a classmate.' It's a golden rule."
The pretzel felt like lead in my stomach. "A golden rule?"
"Yeah," he continued, completely unaware of the shift in my energy. "Think about it. If it goes wrong, you have to see them every single day for four years. You're trapped in the same room. It's a mess. I'd never do that to myself—date someone from my own class? No way. It's just asking for trouble."
The words hit me with the force of a physical blow.
I'd never do that to myself.
I stared at the ground, my heart sinking so fast it felt like it might drop through the pavement. All the moments we had shared—the long walks behind the walls, the whispered conversations in the festive room, the way he'd saved my seat every morning—suddenly felt like they had been re-categorized. To me, they were the building blocks of something real. To him, were they just... a friendship? A safe, "classmate-only" zone?
"Dary? You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I'm fine," I lied, my voice sounding thin even to my own ears. "Just the cold. It's catching up to me."
"We should get you home," he said, standing up and reaching out a hand to help me.
I took it, but the touch didn't send the usual spark through my arm. Instead, it felt like a reminder of the barrier he had just built between us. I had spent weeks worrying about Ionique's feelings, terrified that I was taking something from her. Now, I realized the bitter irony: there was nothing to take.
I had been so careful not to cross a line that, in his mind, didn't even exist.
As we walked toward the bus stop in the chilly October night, the festive lights of Oktoberfest seemed dull and blurry. I realized then that the "space where something almost lives" wasn't a beginning at all. It was a cage. I was in Class 9B, and according to Steph's golden rule, that was exactly where I would stay.