Morning sunlight spilled across the courtyard of their school, gilding the leaves with gold. Altair strode through the gates with an exaggerated air of nonchalance, his bag slung over one shoulder, his expression carefully arranged into one of haughty indifference.
Nothing happened yesterday. Absolutely nothing. Cassian is not in my head. I did not confess to having someone I like. And if I did, he definitely didn't catch it. Perfectly normal day, perfectly normal me.
His footsteps quickened as if speed alone could crush the memories still gnawing at him.
By the time he reached the classroom, he had perfected his mask: smug smirk, chin slightly tilted, the kind of look that dared anyone to assume he was embarrassed.
And then he saw Cassian.
Sitting at his desk, already unpacking his book and notes as if mornings were made for order and serenity. His dark hair fell neatly into place, catching the light, and his expression was—as usual—impossibly composed.
Altair stopped at the door. For a second too long.
Cassian looked up. Their gazes met.
Altair's chest did a traitorous thud.
He immediately rolled his eyes, stormed past, and as he brushed behind Cassian's chair, his hand darted out. Fingers caught in dark strands and gave a quick, petty tug.
"Move, dog," Altair muttered under his breath, though his face was already heating up.
Cassian's head tilted slightly at the pull, but instead of snapping back like Altair expected, he turned his gaze up to him with a faintly puzzled look. A quiet what was that for? sat in his eyes—but no words followed.
Altair froze at the silence. Then scowled, dropping into his own seat with a loud thump.
His classmates, who had watched the exchange with wide eyes, exchanged glances. One whispered: "Did he just…pull Cassian's hair?"
Another stifled a laugh. "That's practically flirting where he comes from, right?"
Altair slammed his notebook onto the desk. "Shut up, background characters!"
The class went quiet, though a few snickers still lingered.
Cassian, however, turned back to his book, unbothered. No scolding. No sarcastic remark. Not even a pointed glare. Just the faint furrow of his brow as if he was genuinely confused by the attack.
That infuriated Altair more than anything.
"Oi," he snapped, leaning over their shared desk line. "Aren't you going to say something? You're supposed to say 'don't touch me,' or 'you insolent brat,' or—I don't know—something alpha-y!"
Cassian turned a page, not looking at him. "…Should I?"
"Yes!"
Cassian's eyes flicked sideways to him, calm and steady. "…Then don't do it again."
Altair sputtered. "That's it? That's all you've got?!"
"Yes," Cassian replied, tone even, lips almost tugging at the corner as if suppressing something more.
Altair nearly screamed.
Why isn't he biting back?! Why isn't he glaring? Why is he so… calm?! He's supposed to be annoyed! I'm annoying him! That was the whole point!
He slumped dramatically in his chair, arms crossed tight. His face was still too warm, and the more Cassian ignored the bait, the hotter it became.
Throughout the morning lessons, Altair found himself sneaking glances. Every time Cassian scribbled notes with quiet precision, every time his hand smoothed a page, Altair's mind wandered treacherously back to last night—Cassian at his window, Cassian's smirk when he'd blurted out the fatal words.
I already have someone I like.
Altair groaned into his arms, earning another whisper from nearby classmates.
"Didn't sleep well?" one girl teased.
"Shut up, I'm brilliant as always," Altair grumbled, refusing to lift his head.
Cassian, ever infuriating, continued writing as though the world around him didn't exist.
When the bell rang for break, Altair leapt up before Cassian could. "I'm going to the cafeteria! Alone! Without anyone! Especially without you!"
Cassian blinked at him, still seated. "…Alright."
Altair stomped off, only to realize halfway down the hall that Cassian wasn't following. His chest gave a weird little twist at the emptiness behind him.
Why isn't he coming? Isn't he supposed to annoy me back?
He shook the thought away violently. "Good. He can sit there and drown in his boring book."
But when he returned later with bread in his mouth and a carton of juice in hand, Cassian was exactly where he'd left him. Except this time, he was leaning back in his chair, watching the window.
Altair hesitated, juice halfway to his lips. That image—Cassian bathed in sunlight, utterly composed—gnawed at him. He stomped back to his seat, slammed the juice down, and hissed: "What are you even thinking about, staring out the window like some brooding statue?"
Cassian glanced at him, expression unreadable. "…Nothing."
"Liar."
"…Maybe I'm wondering what has you so restless this morning."
Altair choked on his bread. "Wh-wha—I—I'm not restless! I'm the very picture of peace! I'm practically zen!"
Cassian raised a brow slightly. "Zen?"
"Yes!" Altair declared, flailing one arm dramatically while chewing on the other half of his bread. "Untouchable! Serene! Tranquil!"
His classmates snorted into their sleeves.
Cassian's lips twitched, the faintest hint of amusement ghosting across his features. But he didn't say anything.
Altair slammed his palms on the desk, pointing at him with exaggerated accusation. "There! That! That twitch of a smile! You're mocking me!"
Cassian tilted his head, deliberately smoothing his expression back to neutral. "…If you say so."
Altair groaned into his hands, muffled. "You're insufferable!"
"Likewise," Cassian murmured.
And yet, despite the irritation burning in his chest, Altair couldn't stop the tiny, reluctant curve tugging at his lips.
The petty war had begun.