Kairos floated back to his dorm, his feet barely touching the pavement. The city sounds were a distant hum, muffled by the roaring, joyful static in his own head. Every detail of the night was etched in high definition: the warm glow of the restaurant, the way Ares's laughter had sounded different outside of their coding calls—freer, lighter—the comfortable silence that had settled between them like a shared secret.
He pushed open his door, half-expecting his friends to have rigged a confetti cannon or something equally absurd. The room was dark and quiet. They'd given him his space. For a brief moment, he was almost disappointed. The euphoria was too big to be contained by just himself. He needed to download the experience, to process it aloud.
He didn't need to tell them. They knew.
His phone, still clutched in his hand, buzzed violently. The screen lit up with a cascade of messages from the Council.
Robin: WE ARE DYING. STATUS REPORT. DID YOU KISS? DID YOU BOWL HER OVER WITH YOUR SMOOTH TALK ABOUT COMBUSTIBLE ROBOTS? Sam:Please confirm mission success. We require empirical data for our records. Was the venue acceptable? Was the conversation-to-awkward-silence ratio favorable? Drake:Vibe check. On a scale of '404 Connection Error' to 'Fully Deployed to Production,' where are we at? Send a screenshot of your aura.
Kairos laughed, a quiet, happy sound in the dark room. He collapsed onto his bed, the adrenaline finally starting to ebb, leaving a warm, contented exhaustion in its wake. He typed his response, his thumbs flying.
Kairos: Mission successful. No casualties. The risotto was a 10/10. The company was a 12/10. Robin:THAT'S ALL WE GET? WE GAVE YOU THE SHIRT OFF OUR COLLECTIVE BACKS! WE PROVIDED LOGISTICAL, SARTORIAL, AND EMOTIONAL SUPPORT! Kairos:Fine. It was… perfect. We talked about everything except code. She's funnier than I thought. Smarter, too. And she didn't run away. Even when I told her about the robot. Sam:Acknowledged. Data points 'funny' and 'smart' added to profile. 'Did not run away' is a significant positive indicator. Drake:Vibe: successfully deployed. Proud of you, bro.
The responses were a flood of triumphant emojis, GIFs of fireworks, and exaggerated relief. He could picture them in their own rooms, Robin pumping his fist, Sam nodding in satisfaction, Drake sketching a celebratory comic strip. His heart swelled with a fierce, grateful affection for his ridiculous, loyal friends. They'd been in the trenches with him, and now they were celebrating his victory as their own.
He plugged his phone in to charge, the screen still lighting up with their celebratory spam. As he got ready for bed, brushing his teeth with a goofy grin still plastered on his face, the events of the evening played on a blissful loop in his mind. It was the best kind of bug—a happy, endless recursion he never wanted to break out of.
Just as he was about to crawl under the covers, his phone buzzed with a different tone. A specific, softer notification he'd set for one person.
Ares: Home. A simple,one-word message. It was followed a second later by another. Ares:I had a really nice time tonight.
The simplicity of it undid him completely. It wasn't a grand declaration. It was quiet, honest, and felt more intimate than anything else that evening. She was home. She was thinking about their night. And she'd had a nice time. He could almost see her, in her room, maybe talking to Selene, a similar, small smile on her face.
He didn't overthink his response. He didn't consult the council. He just typed what he felt.
Kairos: Me too. Really nice.
He waited, holding his breath. The three typing dots appeared, danced, and disappeared. Then they appeared again.
Ares: Get some sleep, Kairos. We've got a leaderboard to monitor tomorrow.
He could hear her voice in the words, that familiar blend of command and care that was now infused with a new, gentle warmth. He smiled.
Kairos: Yes, ma'am. Goodnight, Ares.
He put the phone down, screen facing down this time. The room was dark and quiet, but it was no longer empty. It was filled with the lingering warmth of the evening, the ghost of her laughter, and the steady, thrilling certainty that something had fundamentally, wonderfully changed.
He fell asleep with the phone pressed against his chest, the final notification from his friends still glowing on his locked screen.
Robin: OUR BOY IS ALL GROWN UP 😭 🥳
---
The Morning After
Kairos woke up feeling… different. The world seemed sharper, the light through his window brighter. There was no lingering anxiety, no low-grade dread about the day. There was only a calm, steady hum of happiness. He reached for his phone. No frantic messages about app errors. Just a single, good-morning text from Ares, sent an hour ago.
Ares: The heater in Dorm C is still winning. Lead is down to 15 votes. It's getting spicy.
He laughed. It was the most perfectly them way to start the day. He typed back.
Kairos: The people are speaking. We must respect the democratic process. Even if it's about HVAC.
Their conversation continued as they both got ready for the day, a comfortable, easy back-and-forth that felt both new and deeply familiar. The specter of their first date hung between them, not as a awkwardness, but as a shared touchstone, a private joke they were both in on.
When he met up with Robin, Sam, and Drake for their morning coffee run, the dynamic had shifted.
"Well, well, well," Robin sang, slinging an arm around Kairos's shoulders. "Look who's walking with a new spring in his step. The king returns from the battlefield of love!"
"Shut up," Kairos said, but he was grinning.
"We require a full debrief," Sam said, adjusting his glasses. "Start from the beginning. What was her order? Did she use the bread basket for its intended purpose or did she dissect it strategically?"
"And most importantly," Drake interjected, "did the vibe hold?"
Kairos regaled them with the details over coffee, leaving out the more personal moments but sharing the highlights—the easy conversation, the lack of technical jargon, the mutual agreement on the risotto. His friends listened, interjecting with their own commentary, creating a grand, exaggerated epic out of a simple, lovely dinner.
It felt good to share it. It made it more real.
The day proceeded with a sense of renewed purpose. In class, he found himself actually paying attention, his mind not wandering to bug fixes or anxiety spirals. During his coding session for CampusFix, he worked on a new feature—a notification for users when an issue they'd upvoted changed status—with a focus that felt effortless. He wasn't just coding for a grade or to prove himself anymore. He was coding for her, for them, for the thousands of small connections their app was facilitating.
In the late afternoon, he met Ares at the library to work on their final project submission for Professor Evans. Seeing her felt different. There was a new layer to their interaction, a silent acknowledgment of the night before that lived in the spaces between their words about user stories and API documentation.
At one point, their hands brushed reaching for the same notebook. They both pulled back, a jolt of electricity passing between them. A faint blush crept up Ares's neck, and she quickly looked down at her screen.
"Sorry," she mumbled.
"It's okay," he said, his own face feeling warm.
They worked for another hour, the professional barrier firmly back in place, but the air between them was charged with a new, unspoken understanding. As they packed up, Ares turned to him.
"So," she said, her tone casual. "The democratic process is calling. The flooded pathway is making a comeback. It's only ten votes behind the heater now."
"A real nail-biter," Kairos agreed, shouldering his backpack. "We should probably monitor the situation closely."
"Probably," she said, a smile playing on her lips. "Maybe over dinner tomorrow? To ensure… electoral integrity."
Kairos's heart did a backflip. A second date. She was asking him on a second date.
"Electoral integrity is very important," he said, trying and failing to keep a straight face. "I know just the place. It has… acceptable bread basket protocols."
She laughed, that real, unreserved laugh he was starting to live for. "I'd expect nothing less."
They walked out of the library together, the setting sun casting long shadows across the quad. The path ahead was unclear, filled with coding challenges, academic deadlines, and the terrifying, wonderful uncertainty of whatever was growing between them.
But for the first time, Kairos wasn't afraid of the chaos. He was ready for it. He had his app, his friends, and a date to monitor a fake election about a campus heater.
Life, for once, was perfectly, brilliantly, on track.