INT – FIRE'S APARTMENT
"Are you hungry?"
Magic words. From my grumpy angel.
Tears rolled again—but this time, they sparkled.
We ended up in the kitchen, sitting at the same table where Ice tried to teach me everything before the exam.
It still made me sad. But with him here, I didn't want to show it too much. I needed to be strong. Maybe?
"You're making excuses," he said, eyeing me.
"I know it's my fault." I exhaled, defeated. For once, I couldn't deny it.
I'd told him about my non-stop brand shoots and endorsements. I was preparing for next semester. The tuition wasn't cheap, so I told my manager to accept everything she could.
It meant weeks of back-to-back work.
"I tried to study. On planes. During breaks." I poked at my rice. It probably tasted amazing, but my guilt turned my tastebuds off.
"I thought it was a solid plan… that I'd still have time to study," I said, eyes fixed on the food instead of his face.
"But I forgot to sleep."
"And now I've learned the hard way—if I don't stop, my body will make me."
A few more tears welled up. I didn't want them to fall onto Ice's delicately prepared food.
"This isn't even the first time I messed up like this," I mumbled. "I should've learned."
"I'm being too greedy." I tilted my head up to stop the tears from falling and accidentally met Ice's gaze.
"You are," he said flatly, just staring at me.
Excuse me?
You're supposed to pamper me!
"You should've asked for help. From your dad."
"No. I wanted to prove I could do this. That I could pay for it myself with my hard-earned money."
"I know. But you could've just asked him for a loan. Paid it back later."
His words hit me right in the chest.
I know he saw the guilt on my face.
Tears started forming again—like weeds sprouting on a perfectly cut lawn.
I didn't even have a defense. Because he was right.
I was trying too hard… not trying smart.
I wanted to cry—but not because he was mean. I wanted to cry because I hated that he was right. I didn't want him to see how much it stung… that his solution was right, and I'd been stupid.
A tight rush to my chest.
And now my feelings didn't even make sense anymore.
I could only stare and pout like an overinflated pufferfish just to stop the tears from falling.
And then… he moved.
He shook his head like I was the most hopeless creature alive, stood up, and walked behind me.
Seriously? This rude Iceberg—I knew it! He knew it!
I thought he came here to comfort me… but no! He's just channeling the spirit of my most judgmental ancestors!
You can't be a little gentler? I'm freshly heartbroken and academically destroyed here!
My cheeks puffed even more, halfway to full squirrel mode. I had a speech ready for when he returned to his seat—
And then I smelled something.
Something… sweet?
I heard the faintest rustle behind me—then suddenly, arms.
One slid carefully across my collarbone from behind, firm but gentle, like he was trying not to startle me. The other settled on my head with a soft, clumsy pat—so awkward, so un-Ice-like that my brain lagged.
For a second, I forgot how to breathe.
Was I getting kidnapped?! Bagged? Taken by some ghost I accidentally summoned with my tears?!
But then—
The scent hit me. Warm. Subtle. Sweet.
Strawberries and cream.
Ice.
My heart did this weird flip, like someone yanked the rug out from under my ribs.
His chest was against my back, steady and quiet. The arm across my neck wasn't tight—but I could feel the weight of it, the warmth of it.
It wasn't just comforting. It was safe.
The kind of hug you don't expect when you've been bracing yourself to break alone.
"Will the scene from your romance novel help?" he asked softly, the words tickling the shell of my ear.
That voice.
It wasn't cold. Or annoyed.
It was gentle. Careful.
As if I might shatter.
"There, there." He patted my head again. "You can cry," he added, fingers combing once through my hair in the most awkward—way imaginable.
My chest caved in.
Not because he told me to cry.
But because he gave me permission to fall apart.
"You're supposed to say 'Don't cry!'" I wailed, my voice cracking mid-sentence like a badly tuned violin.
And that was it.
The dam broke.
Everything I'd been holding back—every buried frustration, every second of humiliation, every ounce of exhaustion—I dropped it all like hot coals I could no longer pretend weren't burning me.
I clutched his arm like a lifeline. My head tipped forward. My shoulders shook.
No more jokes. No more acting fine. No more smiling when everything inside me was fraying at the seams.
I don't know how long I cried.
But I never once looked back to see his face.
I just leaned into his warmth, his steadiness—
And for the first time that night…
I didn't feel like I had to be strong.
I didn't feel alone.