#i nee

It all happens in a blur. One second, the sky is open and blindingly blue, wind tearing at your sleeves as you cut too close around a floating marker. Your broom dips when you lean into the turn, bristles shuddering beneath your grip. Someone calls your name; maybe Vargas, maybe Grim — but you don’t slow down. You should have.

Then, everything goes wrong.

Your broom slams into something solid.

The impact jolts straight up your arms, knocking the breath from your lungs. The handle jerks sideways, your balance snapping like a pulled thread, and you pitch forward with a startled gasp. There’s no time to correct, no time to think; only the sudden, terrifying closeness of another body hurtling toward you.

Thump.

Foreheads collide hard enough to make your vision spark white.

A sharp click of teeth follows as your mouths crash together, awkward and unplanned, lips bumping with all the grace of two people desperately trying not to fall out of the sky. His breath hits your face, warm and startled, and you register the faint smell of sunlight before the world tilts again.

Your broom bucks violently beneath you.

“Whoa—! Are you okay?!” Kalim gasps, grabbing the tail of your broom without thinking, panic flashing across his face even as he struggles to keep you both upright. The sudden tug sends another jolt through you, close enough that you can feel his grip trembling.

You don’t answer; your heart is hammering so loud it drowns out everything else.

Your face burns hotter than the sun, embarrassment crashing over you harder than the impact. Before you can process anything, and before he can say another word, you jerk your broom free and veer off course, nearly missing the whistle signaling a halt to the exercise.

You don’t look back.

Below, the whistle blows — shrill, furious — Vargas shouting something about control and awareness. Grim’s laughter cuts through it all, cruel and delighted. And somewhere behind you, Kalim hovers in place, stunned, hand still half-extended, staring after you like he’s trying to understand what just happened.

All you know is this: you couldn’t face him properly again. Not after that.

Not tomorrow. Not next week.

You think it’ll pass.

Maybe not ever.

Embarrassment usually does. Given enough time, enough distance, even the worst moments dull at the edges. So you avoid him and tell yourself it’s temporary; just until your face stops heating up at the thought of wind rushing past your ears and Kalim’s startled breath against your mouth.

Except it doesn’t pass.

One week slips into another. Avoidance stops being a reaction and turns into routine. You learn which corridors he favors, which times Scarabia students tend to flood the halls. You arrive early and leave late, lingering just long enough to make sure you won’t cross paths.

It was already difficult, even before all the embarrassment. Kalim Al-Asim has a way of existing loudly. His laughter carries from room to room, his presence always pulls at your attention whether you want it to or not. You’d noticed him long before Flight lessons — noticed the warmth in his smile, the way he talks to people like he genuinely wants to know them. A harmless crush, you’d told yourself. Something small.

Now, it feels more like a bruise you keep pressing on.

You’re careful not to look at him in class. When you do, accidentally, your chest tightens. He still glances around more than he used to, eyes searching in a way that makes guilt curl in your stomach. You look away first, of course. Always.

For a while, it works.

The cafeteria is busier than usual, a hum of conversation and laughter filling the air as sunlight catches the edges of the tables. You’re carrying your tray carefully, scanning for a quiet spot to sit, hoping today would be as peaceful as ever.

Then, your foot snags the chair leg. The tray tilts, contents sliding dangerously, and you stumble backward, flailing for balance; and just when you think things couldn’t have gone worse—

“Oh!”

A sudden stop. A solid presence presses against your back. Your stomach lurches at the familiarity of the voice. You freeze, too embarrassed to move.

Kalim.

He’s standing there, behind you, close enough that you feel his shoulder pressing against yours. The heat rushes to your cheeks instantly. You open your mouth to gasp… but he quickly raises his palm to your lips.

“Shhh,” he says, quiet but firm, his eyes scanning the cafeteria as if someone might be watching. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

Your stomach twists, making you flinch, putting at least any sort of distance between you. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t see you—”

He gives a small, almost teasing smirk, but it’s soft, not mocking. “Relax. I went looking for you anyway.”

You blink at him, unsure how to respond, heat rising in your cheeks.

Kalim tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing just enough to make you feel seen. “Have you been avoiding me?” His voice is low, casual, but there’s an edge of curiosity there; like he’s genuinely trying to figure you out.

“I—what? No! Why would I ever—” You stumble over your words, wishing the floor would swallow you whole.

He lets out a quiet hum, that signature thoughtful sound he makes when he’s thinking, observing. “Hmm. Because it feels like every time I look around, you’re… not there.” Kalim tilts his head, grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Is it because of what happened in Flight lessons?”

Your stomach drops. “I—I don’t know what you mean!” you blurt, immediately regretting it.

Kalim tilts his head, expression softening, eyes warm and steady. “You don’t?” His voice is quiet, careful, but there’s that familiar lilt in it; soft, teasing, like he’s letting you in on a secret. “And here I was, hoping to talk to you about it…” He pauses, smirk tugging at his lips. “…You kinda owe me one now, you know.”

You blink. “…Excuse me?”

He chuckles, the sound low and easy, not mocking — just full of that endearing confidence he always carries. “That kiss,” he says lightly, eyes twinkling. “Flight lessons… definitely wasn’t the proper way to do it. I think you owe me a proper one. You can’t leave it like that forever, you know!”

Your face burns hotter than ever. “I— Are you serious?!” you squeak, flailing just a little, wishing you could disappear into the floor.

He chuckles again, shaking his head slightly. “Okay, okay, sorry, sorry… let me start over,” he says, voice softer now, more careful. His eyes meet yours, warm and steady, and there’s a quiet intensity behind them that makes your heart skip.

“Can I…?” he hesitates, tilting his head just enough to catch your gaze. “Can I kiss you? Properly this time… like how I’ve always wanted to.”

You gulp, trying to form words, but all that comes out is a shaky, “…I… uh…” Your cheeks burn, and your hands fidget nervously.

Kalim tilts his head again, his grin softening into something warmer, gentler. He leans just slightly closer — not enough to crowd you, just enough that the space between you hums with quiet anticipation.

“I’m not asking for it right now,” he murmurs, voice low and calm, eyes locked on yours. There’s a playful sparkle there, but underneath it, something patient, something steady. “Just… maybe someday. Don’t run from me next time, alright?”

You swallow hard, nodding, words catching in your throat. “…I… I’ll try,” you manage, voice small, almost breathless.

For a moment, he just stands there, eyes warm and steady, letting the words sink in. You can’t help the flutter in your chest, the way your heart seems to stutter in disbelief.

Then, as if remembering something else entirely, his grin brightens; playful, bubbly, and utterly effortless. “Anyway,” he says, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve, “I should probably get going before someone notices me loitering in the cafeteria!”

Your chest tightens at the thought of him leaving, but before he can take a step, he pauses. His ruby eyes flick back to you, and the playful spark returns; just a little softer this time.

“Oh! Right,” he says, almost as if he’s remembering something important. “Scarabia’s having a banquet tonight. You should come!”

You blink, caught off guard. “A banquet?”

He nods, cheerful and casual, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Yeah. Music, food, dancing… the works! I mean, it won’t be the same if I don’t see you there.”

Your stomach does a little flip, and you feel your cheeks heat again. “I— I’ll try to be there!”

Kalim grins, that mix of teasing and warmth that makes your heart feel like it might just jump out of your chest. “Good! I’ll be looking for you. Don’t make me search like I did today, alright?!” he says, winking before turning and weaving through the crowd, leaving you standing there with a racing heart.