INT – FIRE'S APARTMENT
The apartment was still shrouded in darkness, the same kind that coiled inside Ice's chest—dense, stubborn, and nameless. He wouldn't call it concern. That word didn't belong to him.
It mocked him all the way here. At every turn, that strange pull prodded at his logic. What was he even doing? What was he supposed to feel?
He wasn't supposed to care this much. She was ridiculous, dramatic, emotionally fragile—and somehow, his first instinct was to chase after her the moment she disappeared. Not because he wanted to. Because it felt... wrong not to.
This wasn't concern. It was something else entirely—something he didn't even have a word for.
Standing outside her door earlier, he spent what felt like an eternity deciding whether to knock. Ninety percent sure he had been possessed by something he didn't want to admit.
And now—
"What did you say?" he blurted before he could even think.
His hands instinctively closed around hers—small, soft, still wrapped loosely around his shoulders from that ridiculous hug she launched at him. He gripped them tightly, grounding himself.
The relief that hit him when Fire started sounding a little more like her usual self—it was too obvious, even for him. But her explanation... it was so far from what he expected that his brain stalled.
She had fallen asleep during the exam.
If she had told him that in any other setting, he would've dragged her to a desk for another six hours of forced review. There would've been a lecture. A long, painful one. But now?
Now she looked like this—curled up on the floor in an oversized dress, her face blotchy from crying, and her voice still breaking at the edges.
He tried to pull her hands away gently, but she clung to him.
Ice sighed. Again.
Another sigh, always with her. At this point, he should count how many times she made him do this.
It finally hit him, the full absurdity of the situation:
Why was he here?
Because she skipped school over a broken heart—utterly ridiculous, he told himself. Pathetic, even. And yet, annoyingly, his rational mind kept reminding him he had no right to judge something he'd never gone through himself.
Still, memories of her crying in the playground because of something he said back then wouldn't leave him alone. And the fear—that she might do something foolish, something more Fire than usual—had gnawed at him enough to drag him here.
Now he was inside the apartment of the very person who stressed him out the most, all because she fell asleep during an exam.
His mind was raging with frustration. His heart... confused with reasons he didn't want to face.
He let out another sigh, hoping it would exhale everything—the scolding, the disbelief, the helplessness.
He tried again to free himself, but she wouldn't let go.
"I'm not going to do anything to you," he muttered, his tone sharper than intended.
To her, it probably sounded like, I'm not going to kill you.
"Promise?" she asked, her voice a little lighter now. Almost teasing.
"Hmph." That was all he could say. He was busy calming himself because clearly, she wasn't going to do it for him.
Eventually, she let go. Ice opened his mouth to finally speak—
"Yes, yes, I shouldn't be hugging people," she cut in.
"I shouldn't let guys into my apartment," she added, and he could picture her rolling her eyes in the dark.
He tried to say something else, but again—
"Please don't kill me. I didn't mean it, Icy!" she cried, launching at him again.
This time, he was prepared. He grabbed her shoulders and held her still.
He wasn't fooled. She wasn't hugging him—she was hiding in him.
"Listen," Ice said, unsure of his next words. Emotional pep talks were never part of his skillset. In fact, he usually labeled them as ignorants.
"Your loud friend was worried about you," he added, keeping his voice neutral.
"Oriel? Yeah... I didn't have the guts to tell her I failed. I was really embarrassed," Fire said, wiping her own tears this time.
"No," he clarified. "She was talking about you breaking up with your boyfriend."
And there it was.
Why did he say that?
He wanted to vanish. That line came out of nowhere—zero tact, no backup plan, and absolutely no idea why it bothered him enough to mention. And worse, he had no better way to say it.
"Oh, that," Fire replied. Her voice didn't change. Not even a flicker of sadness. That wasn't the reaction he expected.
She was usually easy to read. Maybe he was wrong.
"But that's not why I skipped class. I was just really sad."
Her voice sounded genuine. Honest.
He didn't press. It wasn't his business to dig into everything. Not anymore.
Still, the relief was undeniable. The reason she failed? Absurd. But it made more sense than anything he had imagined.
He sighed again.
"Are you feeling okay now?" Ice asked—quiet, unguarded, a little too raw.
Fire didn't answer right away. Instead, she straightened suddenly.
"Wait. Don't move."
Before he could ask why, she stood up and padded across the room. The soft click of the switch followed, and warm light poured over the space.
She turned back and hurried toward him, settling down just as quickly as she left—like she hit rewind on a tape.
Then, without asking, she grabbed his hands and placed them back on her shoulders—exactly where they were before.
"Say that again, please." she said seriously, eyes locked on his, like her life depended on it.
"I just needed to make sure it was really you," she whispered. "Or if I accidentally summoned something."
Ice blinked.
Her gaze didn't waver—excited, sure, but filled with that familiar spark. The room was brighter, but it wasn't just the lights.
This girl...