Ash stood in front of Isadora's apartment door.
She was leaning against him, fast asleep, her perfume faint and her breath steady. She hadn't let go of his sleeve the entire commute.
He gently shifted her weight, unlocking the door with the spare key she had handed him earlier.
Ash never touched her more than necessary.
Never said more than what was polite.
He just… stayed beside her.
Silent. Careful. Composed.
He tried not to think about the kiss.
He helped her inside—laid her gently on the couch, pulled a blanket over her, and set a glass of water on the coffee table.
Then, without a word…
He left.
______
Back in his apartment, the air felt heavier than usual.
Boxes still cluttered the corners of the room, half-packed, forgotten.
Ash sat at the edge of his bed.
His glasses sat askew on his nose.
His shirt was rumpled.
His fingers were still cold from the wind.
His phone buzzed once.
He glanced at it.
Not her.
No unread messages.
No texts from Celeste.
Not even one of her mocking GIFs or sarcastic one-liners.
Nothing.
He sighed and set the phone beside him on the bed.
But his hand lingered.
The words he wanted to send hovered in his mind like smoke he couldn't cough out:
"I'm sorry you saw that."
"I didn't know she'd do that."
"It didn't mean anything."
"I wanted to text you right away. I couldn't."
"I don't know why it felt so wrong."
But he didn't type them.
Didn't send anything.
Because what were they?
They weren't lovers.
They weren't anything official.
He didn't owe her an explanation.
But…
He still wondered if her silence hurt as much as his own.
_______
The morning light spilled softly through the curtains. Celeste sat at her desk this time, hair tied in a lazy bun, oversized hoodie swallowing her frame.
Another cup of coffee. Another round of flashcards.
The clock blinked 6:42 AM.
She had an exam at 9. She wasn't panicking—but she also hadn't smiled in hours.
She stretched her fingers, cracked her knuckles, and got back to highlighting.
Yellow for definitions. Pink for formulas. Green for anything that reminded her of him.
She hated green now.
Her phone buzzed again.
Lyka:
Good luck again today!!! this one's the hard one 😭
Liam:
I woke up thinking about death and multiple choice.
Celeste:
You both are dramatic.
See you after we survive this.
She clicked the screen off and stared blankly at her reflection in the laptop.
Still no message from Ash.
Of course not.
And that was fine.
Because they weren't anything.
And she was fine.
She had an exam to pass.
.
.
.
.
NOPE. SHE WASN'T FINE AT ALL.
_______
The silence in the exam room was the kind that screamed.
Only the sounds of scratching pens, shifting chairs, and the occasional sigh filled the air like a ticking bomb. Celeste tapped her pen against the side of her cheek, her gaze narrowed on the last question.
Trick question. Obviously.
But it wasn't the questions that made her hands clammy—it was the voice in her head.
Focus. Breathe. Don't think about him.
Lyka, two seats over, had already broken her fourth eraser.
The invigilator cleared their throat.
Celeste flipped her paper and forced herself to focus again.
Statistics, Logic, and Applications.
What a fun way to be reminded that life made no sense.
She answered the final number, barely breathing.
Pens down. Papers collected. Students dismissed.
________
*SLAM.
Lyka dropped her tray like it was a resignation letter, then threw herself onto the cafeteria bench dramatically.
"I'm filing an academic complaint against life."
Celeste looked up from her iced Americano, unimpressed. "Let me guess… Number 27?"
"Number. Twenty. Seven." Lyka said like it was a name she would tattoo as a warning.
"'Estimate the probability of disappointment'? Bro, I'm already living the answer."
Celeste sipped calmly. "You could've just written 'This morning.'"
Lyka pointed at her. "Low blow."
"Still passed though," Celeste said with a lazy shrug.
"Yeah," Lyka admitted, groaning. "But at what cost? My brain cells were out there bare-knuckling the multiple choice."
Liam appeared suddenly, slumping into the seat like gravity had given up on him.
"I survived physics," he mumbled. "But I forgot what my name was halfway through."
Celeste blinked. "What did they ask you? If gravity exists?"
Liam groaned. "No. They gave me a question about a train going 60 km/h and I think I blacked out at 'relative velocity.'"
"I felt that, we've been there" Lyka said, patting his shoulder. "You'll live."
"Maybe," Liam said. "I drew a stickman holding a sign that said 'Send Help.'"
Celeste choked on her drink.
Lyka sighed, flopping onto the table again. "At least we studied. Like, really studied."
Celeste nodded. "My notes had notes. My highlighters are filing for worker's comp."
"I did my best," Liam muttered. "But if I pass, it's not me. It's divine intervention."
"You'll pass," Celeste said, nudging him with her elbow. "We all will."
"We better," Lyka said dramatically. "Because if I fail, I'm legally changing my name and moving to a mountain."
Liam grinned. "I'll visit you. Bring snacks."
Celeste raised her cup. "To academic survival."
Lyka and Liam clinked theirs with hers.
They looked like hell.
But they did their best.
And they'd make it.
________