The art club meeting room was fuller than usual.
Chairs were arranged in loose rows, sketchbooks resting on laps, pencils tapping nervously against paper. Ethan sat among them, hunched slightly forward, staring at the blank page in front of him like it was personally mocking him.
"Alright," the program coordinator said, clapping her hands once to gather attention.
"Let's start simple. I want everyone to draw something. The first simple thing that crosses your mind."
It was easier said than done.
Ethan lowered his pencil to the page anyway. Lines formed, hesitant at first, then more deliberate. He drew, erased, and drew again.
When time was called, he leaned back, unsatisfied. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't better either. It felt the same as everything he'd done in the past few months.
The coordinator walked around, stopping at each sketchbook, nodding and humming thoughtfully.
After collecting a few more observations, she returned to the front of the room.
"Art doesn't exist in a vacuum," she began, "some of you are stuck because you think art is just painting and canvas. Well, it's not. Think of it as the same way as a surgeon's hands move, or the way a cider builds a world."
The room quieted.
"You're stuck because you've been doing the same thing over and over again, consuming the same inspiration. And at some point, your hands stop listening because your eyes are bored. But the solution isn't to draw more, it is to change the input."
A few students exchanged looks.
She continued, "If you can't see your muse clearly with your naked eyes anymore, maybe it's time to try other ways. There's photography, videography, sound, motion... perspective. These things give you a focus point."
She paused.
"And I'm sure that besides art," she said, pacing slowly, "there are other things you're interested in. Other things you enjoy. Other things you might even excel in. Now, what if you combine those two?"
She stopped walking.
"And what if you view that fusion through a different lens?"
She smiled, already knowing she had them.
"There's an art fusion festival happening on the twenty-third," she said. "Wide scale. Outdoor. Art mixed with dance, fashion, literature, gaming, music, installations, interactive media, and performances. Now that exactly is your mission."
Murmurs filled the room.
"I want you to go," she added. "Take pictures and videos. Capture moments that reflect your personal fusion. And in our next meeting, you'll tell us what you learned and how it impacted you. What shifted and what unlocked."
This might actually help, Ethan said internally, glancing down at his sketchbook again, then slowly zipping his bag shut.
As soon as the meeting was dismissed, not lingering, Ethan slung his bag over his shoulder and made for the door.
He knew the routine by now as he slowly peeked from a corner, and immediately spotted Chase standing near the lockers, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning faces like he was on a mission.
Joining that art club was a trap. He cried internally as he ducked behind a wall at every slightest turn of Chase.
Ever since that café incident failed, Chase had been persistently asking questions and fishing for information, trying to squeeze strategies out of Ethan.
"Okay, okay," Ethan muttered under his breath, adjusting his bag strap. He slipped into the crowd, head down, moving fast, and weaving between students.
When Chase turned the other way for just a second, Ethan bolted and didn't stop running until he reached the lecture hall.
He was late but managed to slide inside, taking a seat next to Ryan just as the professor turned to the whiteboard. He was gasping for air, his chest rising and falling
"You good, man?" Ryan whispered, eyeing him. "Why are you breathing like that?" His eyes darted towards the door as if expecting a physical threat to walk in.
"Uh?" Ethan blinked, following Ryan's glance toward the door before shaking his head. "It's nothing. Just... ran from the other block."
Ryan leaned closer. "There'll be a quiz on Thursday, next week ."
Ethan stiffened, his eyes widening. "Next week Thursday?"
That was the day before the Art Fusion festival. If he went to the event to get his footage, he wouldn't have time to cram for the quiz.
"Yeah," Ryan sighed. "And I don't think I'm ready for it."
Ethan looked at him, flatly. "But Adrian's been tutoring you. Between us both, I should be the one saying that."
"Yeah, I know, right? But I'm not that confident yet."
Ethan looked him up and down, baffled at how that logic made zero sense. "Anyways, I don't think I'll have time to cover it all," he said. "So ensure you read well, because you'll have to supply me with the answers."
Ryan's brows lifted. "You're going somewhere?"
"Yeah," Ethan replied. "Something about the club."
_____________________
And Ethan still went anyway.
The festival was a sprawl of color and motion under the open sky. It wasn't a gallery you just looked at; it was a space where bodies became brushes and movement became the medium.
The art wasn't just seen, it was heard thinking.
Ethan moved into the Arts and Games zone, where sculptures rose from the ground like living systems. Their surfaces shifted with sketch-like projections, reacting whenever someone brushed past.
Ethan lifted his camera. Click.
There was costumes figures triggering ripples of light as they wove through the crowd.
Click.
A girl's hand gripped a translucent controller, the veins in her wrist growling neon spill of the game.
Click.
He moved slowly, crouching and adjusting his angles for the perfect shot on another sculpture, completely absorbed in it and failing to notice the figure behind him until…
"Careful," a voice muttered.
A pair of hands gently caught his forearms, steadying him before Ethan could tumble.
The touch, the sudden bump, made Ethan spin around, and his finger twitched from the jolt of the collision.
And click. The camera shot unintentionally, capturing the man's expression in an unguarded moment.
"Oh! sorry," Ethan gasped, instinctively lowering his camera quickly, heart racing slightly. Then, a flicker of recognition hit him. "Dylan?"
"Yeah?" Dylan drew the word, a slight questioning eyebrow lifting as he let go of Ethan's arms. And the corner of his mouth tilting a half-grin at a realization. "We've met before, right?"
"Umm… sometime ago," Ethan said, scratching the back of his head, the awkwardness settling. "Anyway… sorry for bumping into you. I wasn't looking."
"Nah, it's fine," Dylan replied, a slight smile curling up his mouth. His eyes held Ethan's for a brief moment. It was calm, like he wasn't bothered at all
"Ah," Dylan said suddenly, snapping his fingers. "I recall now. The BAD party. I lent you a coat outside."
"Yeah," Ethan nodded, lips stretching into a tight smile, teeth clenched slightly. "You didn't basically lend it to me. It was momentarily." He raised his fingers to form an air quote.
"Yeah, I guess," Dylan laughed. He slipped his hands into his pockets and stepped closer to Ethan. "I didn't get your name that night."
"It's Ethan."
"I'm Dylan," he said casually. "Widely known as Adrian's friend." He repeated it exactly the way Ethan had said it that night.
"Hey, you didn't have to put it that way," Ethan protested, a strange feeling tugging at his chest, half embarrassment, half amusement.
Dylan only laughed at his own teasing as they began walking through the festival together.
The moment stretched easily between them with music thumping in the background, voices overlapping each other, laughter, and game sounds filling the open space.
Dylan cleared his throat. "So… uh… do you come here often? You know, the festival?"
"Not really," Ethan replied. "It's my first time. I'm here on a club project."
"A club project, huh?"
"Yeah. The art club in school. I'm a member. We're supposed to get the footage and give a report at the next meeting."
"Oh, I see," Dylan said, nodding slowly.
"What about you?" Ethan asked, glancing up at him.
"It's my second time here," Dylan replied. "I'm part of the tech team." He tipped his head toward a group of people in black shirts clustered near a large server rack, partially hidden by a pillar.
"We programmed the interactive sculptures," Dylan explained, gesturing vaguely toward the towering, glowing structures around them. "You know, basically keeping the magic running."
"So I'm just doing a round to see how things are going," he added, then looked back at Ethan. "You're here to capture the show, right? What if I take you somewhere much more interesting?"
"Uh?"
"Yeah," Dylan grinned, reaching out and taking Ethan's hands without hesitation. "Just follow me."
Before Ethan could respond, Dylan was already pulling him along. Heat rushed through Ethan's chest, excitement and curiosity bubbling up at once. Whatever Dylan was about to show him, he couldn't wait to see it.
They had barely taken a few steps when a cosplayer spun dramatically nearby, losing balance and crashing straight into Ethan.
Everything happened at once.
Ethan stumbled forward, feet slipping. He was falling when Dylan caught him, one hand firm on Ethan's waist, the other still holding his hand.
"You okay?" Dylan asked softly, almost a whisper, at the startled guy.
"Yeah," Ethan nodded, eyes wide, completely oblivious, and caught in the moment that he didn't even notice his camera slipping from his fingers.
Then it hit the ground.
The sound was sharp and loud, freezing Ethan and then jolting him back to reality. He quickly pulled away from Dylan and dropped to his knees.
"My camera!" he shouted, scrambling to pick it up.
A huge part of it was damaged.
His breath hitched. "What do I do now?"