The next afternoon, the council room was waiting for them again. Same single table, same stack of folders, same trap disguised as an assignment.
Ayan walked in first this time, sliding into the chair like he owned it. He didn't bother looking up when Kairo entered, but he felt it — the shift in the air, heavier, sharper.
Kairo shut the door with a deliberate click.
"Back for round two, Omega?" His voice was cool, teasing, but the undertone had teeth.
Ayan finally looked up, calm, unbothered, his pen already uncapped. "Didn't realize you surrendered after round one."
That earned him a smirk, the kind that looked carved just to test his patience.
They spread the papers across the desk, leaning in at the same time. Ink smudges, loose sheets, scribbled notes—chaos between them that forced closeness. Their shoulders brushed once. Then again. Neither moved.
"Move your hand," Kairo said lowly.
Ayan didn't. His pen hovered right above the blueprint line where Kairo's fingers rested. "Make me."
For a second, there was nothing but silence. A taut string stretched too thin. Then Kairo leaned in, closer than necessary, his breath grazing Ayan's temple as he slid the paper toward himself. "Careful. You'll lose this game."
Ayan's laugh was quiet, dangerous. "Games are meant to be won. And I don't lose."
The clock ticked. Neither backed down. Their notes blurred into the tension, each correction and counter-suggestion sounding less like work and more like combat dressed as cooperation.
At one point, Kairo's pen slipped, dragging a dark line straight across the blueprint.
Ayan chuckled under his breath. "Clumsy."
Kairo's eyes snapped to his, heat sparking. "Try mocking me again."
"Gladly."
The room shrank smaller, tighter, until the only thing left was the friction between them — two halves of something inevitable, circling, colliding, refusing to break.
When the final bell rang, neither moved to pack up.
Kairo's chair scraped closer, deliberate. "Tomorrow," he said, voice low, promise and threat wrapped in one.
Ayan twirled his pen, smiling with that calm, razor-sharp edge. "Looking forward to it."
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