08:11 — Northwest Girls' Housing, Room 314.
The room smelled like body lotion, eucalyptus shower gel, and post-trauma.
Tessa face-planted into her mattress with the kind of groan usually reserved for battlefield casualties. She kicked her boots off midair, letting them thud against the wall, and mumbled obscenities about her calves into the sheets.
Alia leaned back against the wall, a damp towel looped lazily around her neck. Her hair—long, sleek, black with chartreuse roots—was half-dry, clinging to her cheekbones. Her legs felt like rubber. Her spine? MIA. Her brain? On loading screen.
Meanwhile, Zuri looked like she hadn't even sweated. She sat cross-legged on her bed, scrolling through her tablet with the serene menace of someone who woke up thirty minutes before morning drill and drank it like coffee.
"How are you even awake right now?" Tessa mumbled, voice muffled by pillow.
Zuri didn't look up.
"I'm built different."
Alia let out a tired snort.
"Built like a drill sergeant's Pinterest board."
Tessa wheezed, punching her mattress in agreement.
It was a rare, soft moment—exhaustion-induced, yes, but real. These were the types of housing bonds forged by shared pain and blistered heels.
Then—
A knock.
Soft. Measured. But insistent.
Tessa groaned and rolled off the bed like gravity betrayed her.
"If this is another protocol update, I swear I'm defecting to the faculty lounge and starting a coup."
She swung the door open—
And paused.
Turned, slowly, smugly.
Her eyebrow arched like it had somewhere better to be.
"Alia," she called out sweetly. "You've got company."
Alia blinked, half-raising her head.
"Company?"
Then she saw him.
Cade Saville
House Caelus. Hoodie tossed over one shoulder like an afterthought. Hair still damp from a rinse. Smirk pre-installed.
"Good morning," he said, voice smooth like a bribe. "Didn't mean to interrupt your post-drill coma."
Alia sighed, dragging herself up like her blood was replaced with concrete.
"What do you want, Saville?"
"Just wanted to say hi. Check on your legs. Be annoying. Maybe flirt, if the stars align."
"That's a lot of ambition for someone in socks."
Zuri's bathroom door creaked open. Steam curled into the room like stage fog.
She stepped out in her robe, towel over her shoulders, looking like the final boss in a K-drama.
She froze.
Her gaze zeroed in.
The Stink Eye™ was activated.
"Why," she asked flatly, "is he here?"
Cade blinked.
"Good morning to you too."
Alia laughed through her nose.
"Relax. He's not moving in. Just lurking."
Zuri didn't respond. Just turned around and re-entered the bathroom like he wasn't worth the water pressure.
"You girls are roommates?" Cade asked, nodding toward the door.
"Yeah. She hates everyone, don't take it personal"
"Impeccable taste."
They stood there in an awkward-almost-not-awkward silence. Cade leaned slightly on the doorframe, fingers tapping something invisible against his thigh.
"Well," he said finally, "you don't look like you're planning my murder. That's a win."
"Only because my legs don't work right now."
"I'll take what I can get."
He flashed a grin and offered a lazy two-finger wave before heading off down the hall. Not rushed. Not pressed. Just that confident guy energy that somehow always hits the mark.
As the door clicked shut, Tessa pounced.
"Okay but what was that?"
"That was Cade," Alia deadpanned.
"No, no, no. That was Cade Saville showing up at our door like he was auditioning for boyfriend tryouts."
Zuri re-entered the room, towel now discarded, and arms crossed.
"He either has a crush or a brain worm. Possibly both."
Alia flopped back onto her bed with an exaggerated groan.
"You're all being dramatic. He's just Cade."
"You're smiling," Tessa pointed out, grinning.
"I am not."
"Your mouth is literally curving."
Zuri rolled her eyes and grabbed her tablet again.
"Whatever it is, keep it out of this room. I have trauma to heal."
Alia laughed quietly to herself, letting the soft silence settle.
Then—like a spark remembered—
"Oh. He did say something."
Tessa and Zuri looked up in sync like bloodhounds.
"What?"
"What'd he say?"
"Some kind of… party? Tomorrow night" Alia said slowly, stretching her arms above her head.
Tessa leaned forward like she'd just won a scholarship.
"Official? Or, like, off-books?"
Zuri narrowed her eyes.
"If it's not on the student calendar, it's definitely illegal."
Alia smirked.
"Underground. Wall-level hush hush. You know… the fun kind."
"You going?" Tessa asked, basically vibrating.
Alia shrugged with mock innocence.
"...Maybe.
---
16:54 — Southwest Boys' Housing, Level C
The Vantaire training had chewed her up and spit her out.
From 9AM to 6PM, she'd been tossed between combat strategy sims, encrypted systems theory, and dry, dull lectures on "ethical manipulation" by Instructor Vos—the most terrifyingly elegant man she'd ever met.
The kind of guy who could correct your posture and dismantle your entire worldview in the same breath.
By the end of it, Alia was dragging her limbs like she'd been reborn in mud.
Naturally, she headed straight for her brother's dorm.
The security scanner at the Southwest Boys' Housing glowed green when it scanned her pass. She didn't knock. Just strolled in like the brat she was, dropping her bag by the door and going straight for the mini fridge.
"You owe me protein powder," she muttered, popping open one of his expensive shakes without shame. "This one tastes like chalk and regret."
On the couch, Ajax didn't even lift his head. He was upside down—again—one leg thrown over the couch back, one arm lazily throwing darts at the target board on the wall.
"I don't recall asking you to show up, much less ransack my stash," he said blandly, not missing a beat.
"And yet, here I am. Blessing you with my presence."
She plopped beside him, still sipping. He groaned theatrically.
"You're like a migraine with Wi-Fi."
"Aw," she smiled, stretching out and stealing his tablet off the side table. "Sibling love."
"You're exhausting."
"You're dramatic."
She tapped in his lazy lockscreen pattern—the one he thought she hadn't memorized months ago—and started flipping through his folders like it was an afternoon hobby.
"I should report you for espionage," Ajax muttered, still throwing darts.
"You'd miss me too much in detention."
She scrolled through files labeled with house initials—sorted, color-coded. Typical Ajax.
Then she paused.
Zuri Takemura
Then, Cade Saville.
"Eh," she whispered, smirking. "You're keeping tabs on Cade now?"
"He's in my House."
"Mmm, so are a couple hundred others. But he's flagged."
"He's loud."
"He's cute."
"He's trouble."
"I can multitask."
Ajax sighed, finally sitting up. His eyes—just a few shades lighter than hers—scanned her with the slow, irritated concern of an older brother who knew things.
He leaned forward without warning and tapped her cheek with two fingers, pressing lightly against the scar Carmen's blade had left in fencing class.
"Still bleeding?"
"It's scabbing."
"Stupid of you to challenge her."
"Oh, absolutely," she said, unbothered. "But it was fun."
He gave her a look. The "you-are-an-agent-of-chaos-and-must-be-contained" look. But he didn't say anything.
Instead, Alia leaned back against the couch, legs up on the coffee table. The protein shake was half-empty. Her eyes were half-closed.
And then—
"I think I'm falling in love," she said in the flattest, laziest drawl. Like she was commenting on the weather.
Ajax turned his whole head like she'd offended his very bloodstream.
Slow blink.
Side eye.
Deep sigh.
"If it's Cade, I'm walking into traffic."
"Hmm?" she mumbled.
"Don't 'hmm' me."
"What?"
"You said something."
"I did?"
"Alia—"
She blinked up at the ceiling like a cat waking from a nap.
"You're hearing things, old man."
Ajax stared at her like she was both the bane and highlight of his existence.
"I hate that you get away with this."
"With what?"
"All of it."
She reached over, rested her head on his shoulder dramatically.
"Admit it. You'd die with me."
He sighed again—long-suffering, but softer this time.
"Yeah. Of embarrassment."
---
Ajax's room was quiet.
For once.
No darts thudding against the board, no comms buzzing from his tablet. Just the soft hum of the lights above, and the almost silent way Alia shifted her weight, curling sideways on the couch like a lazy cat with expensive trauma.
She'd taken the protein shake straight from the fridge like it was legally hers, then hijacked his tablet and nose-dived into Cealus intel like it was her bedtime story. Now, she was barely upright, her body curled against his chest in a way that was half surrender, half entitlement.
Ajax had one arm around her. Begrudgingly. He still had a dart in the other hand, but he hadn't thrown it in minutes.
"You planning to leech my battery life for the rest of the night or just until I get arthritis from holding you like this?"
Alia just yawned, cheek pressed to his shirt.
"Mmm. Just till my soul stops limping."
"So… forever?"
"Forever's dramatic. Give me like seven hours."
She didn't open her eyes. Didn't move, except to shift even closer—like there was a gravitational pull in his ribcage and she couldn't fight it anymore.
Ajax sighed, long and theatrical.
"You have a room, y'know. With walls. And a bed. And two other breathing humans."
"Zuri's gonna wake up and start doing push-ups on the ceiling. I can't risk it."
"Sounds like a you problem."
"You're warm," she mumbled. "And safe. And I hate you the least."
"Gee. What a privilege."
Still, he didn't move.
Didn't nudge her off.
Even when her fingers curled into his hoodie and her breathing went slower, heavier. Even when her voice, tired and frayed, whispered something so soft he almost didn't catch it.
"It was a hard day."
A beat.
Then another.
He looked down at her. At the faint scar Carmen had left across her cheek, and the quiet furrow in her brow that she only got when she was holding too much in her chest and not letting it spill.
Ajax sighed again. But this one was... softer.
He reached over and pulled the tablet from her loose grip, set it on the side table.
"You're snoring by morning, and I'm kicking you out by sunrise," he muttered.
She didn't respond.
But the corners of her mouth curved. Just slightly.
And she stayed right there—tucked into his side, like it had always been her rightful place.