The street lights flickered on, casting a soft amber glow across the quiet campus paths. Evening had settled in. The noise of the day had faded, with most classes done and students trickling out of the dorms—either heading toward the on-campus convenience store or waiting for their takeout deliveries before curfew.
"She responded!" Oriel lit up, her voice bursting with relief as she stared down at her phone. Her shoulders relaxed after an afternoon spent in anxious knots.
"I told you she'd be fine," Dhylan said with a calm smile, effortlessly balancing a plastic bag brimming with snacks and ready-to-eat meals.
Oriel sighed and puffed her cheeks. "I still hate that guy's attitude. Walking around like he owns the place…"
Dhylan laughed softly, though his gaze shifted in empathy. "Well, to be fair… he is kind of a genius when it comes to his skills."
That earned him a sharp look.
He caught it immediately—the classic 'shut up, you're supposed to be on my side' glare. A nervous chuckle slipped out.
"My pretty Ori, don't look at me like that. It's terrifying," he teased, grinning.
"You're supposed to be scared," she shot back with mock menace, before breaking into a pout. "Now hurry up—I'm starving."
They dropped onto a nearby bench, steam rising from the food containers between them. Oriel absentmindedly unwrapped a steamed bun, her expression drifting into something quieter, more reflective.
"I know I'm biased. I idolize Fire… always have. But the way that guy treats her? It pisses me off. No one should be treated like that. Not a girl—hell, not anyone."
She took a bite, still staring off into space.
"She should stop being friends with that guy," Oriel muttered, her words muffled behind the bun.
"They're lab partners, Ori. It's not like she has a choice," Dhylan said gently, sitting beside her.
"She has a choice! Aish…" She groaned, chasing down the bite with a sip of her energy drink. "She's too kind for her own good."
Dhylan didn't say anything this time. He just nodded along, dabbing at the corner of her lips with a napkin. She was so caught up in her rant, she didn't even notice.
The air turned crisp as the night deepened—typical of this hour. The breeze picked up, slipping under their clothes with a bite.
"I want to say something, but I don't want to sound bossy. If I bring it up, Fire will just defend him," Oriel murmured, her voice a little smaller this time.
Without a word, Dhylan carefully draped his jacket over her shoulders.
"Are you even listening, DJ?!" she snapped, finally looking at him—irritation flaring when she noticed his jacket on her.
"Yes, yes," he said with a grin. "Do you want a hot drink instead?"
Oriel didn't answer at first, but the look on her face said it all.
She had insisted earlier on getting an energy drink, ignoring his suggestion that the night would get cold. Now, all she could do was stare at the hot chocolate in his hand with guilt in her eyes.
Like a scolded kid, she gave a tiny nod.
Dhylan chuckled and traded the drinks, taking her cold can in exchange. "Alright, continue."
With that simple cue, Oriel jumped right back into her rant, listing every little thing that had irritated her that day—eyes bright, voice animated, steam curling from the cup in her hands and warmth settling quietly between the two of them.
EXT- SWEET DREAM PASTRY SHOP
Ice had his hands stuffed in his pockets as he made his way back toward the kitchen. Night had fully fallen, and the shop was bathed in the soft, golden haze of streetlights, casting long shadows over the quiet garden path he took. But just as he neared the old kitchen building, a sharp scent hit his nose—acrid, unmistakable.
Smoke.
His heart skipped a beat. No. Not here.
He broke into a sprint, blood rushing in his ears, the smell growing stronger with every step. When he burst through the door, his worst fear clawed into reality—the kitchen was engulfed in thick, choking smoke. The fire hadn't spread far yet, but the heat still licked at the walls and danced dangerously near the old equipment.
In the middle of the chaos stood Fire, coughing and wide-eyed, frozen in place.
Without a word, Ice yanked the fire extinguisher from the wall. His hands trembled, but his movements were sharp. He pulled the pin, aimed at the base of the flames, and unleashed a cold, foamy spray that hissed as it suffocated the fire. The flames died quickly, but the smoke lingered, wrapping the room in a suffocating fog.
Behind him, Fire stood frozen—shaking, guilt carved into every inch of her body. But he didn't look at her. He couldn't.
This place… This kitchen wasn't just a room. It was the core of his memories—the heartbeat of his childhood, the space he and his mother had poured their lives into. The idea of it going up in flames because of someone's carelessness—He couldn't bear it.
What if he hadn't been here in time? The thought slammed into him like a punch to the chest. One more minute, and the damage might have been irreversible.
His jaw clenched. Rage surged through him, hotter than the fire he had just extinguished.
Anger surged through him, mixing with frustration, each thought more suffocating than the last.
He didn't speak, but when she turned toward him, He saw it in her eyes—fear. She flinched at the intensity in his gaze.
"I-I'm sorry," she stammered, voice barely above a whisper. But he couldn't let it go. Not this time.
"Do you think your 'sorry' fixes everything?" Ice snapped, his voice too harsh, uncontrolled. "You think it's always going to go your way? That just saying sorry makes it all okay?"
Her eyes widened, panic rising with every word.
"Sure, it's just a bit of damage now," he went on, voice rising, "but what if I hadn't been here? What if the fire had spread? Do you ever think before you act?"
She shrank under the force of his anger, her breath coming out in shaky gasps.
Tears welled up in her eyes, her lips trembling. "I'm sorry!" she cried, the sound of her sobs echoing in the quiet of the kitchen.
"Sorry?" he echoed, bitterness cutting through his tone like a knife. "Do you think you can patch things up with just that? Make everyone happy with your apologies? How pathetic."
Her face crumpled. The sobs came harder now, raw and unfiltered.
"I didn't mean to!" she cried again, her voice breaking.
"Wake up, Fire!" he shouted. "It's not always going to go your way. Not because you say sorry, everything is fine." Voice raising in every word. "You can't just keep being a disaster, ruining everything around you, expecting people to clean up after you!"
The shock on her face. The hurt. The disbelief. Ice was probably the first person to speak to her like that. Everyone else let her get away with it.
If she kept going like this—being so careless—she'd never learn. He thought.
It was a flaw that would haunt her, and he couldn't stand to see it.
She stared at him, eyes wide and glassy with tears, but she didn't say a word.
Silently, Fire turned and fled, her sobs echoing as she ran out the door.
Ice stood alone in the still-smoldering kitchen. The air was heavy, filled with ash and tension.
The anger still burned in his chest—but beneath it, something colder crept in.
Guilt.
He ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tight.
Why did he feel like this?
It was her fault… wasn't it?