They slipped into the empty storage room at the back of the robotics wing, the door clicking shut behind them.
Riven paced once, twice, before blurting, "I didn't know someone was taking pictures."
Eli crossed his arms, his voice quiet but sharp. "That's not the point, Riven. The point is—it looks like—"
"Like something it's not?" Riven cut in, heat rising in his voice.
Eli's gaze was steady, unreadable. "Is it?"
The silence that followed was so thick, Riven could hear the faint ticking of the old wall clock. His pulse was loud in his ears. He wanted to say no. He wanted to laugh it off, tell Eli they should focus on the exhibition. But the truth lodged like a thorn in his throat.
"I don't know anymore," Riven admitted, his voice low. "I thought we were just—partners. Teammates. But lately, it's…"
"Different," Eli finished for him. Not a question.
Their eyes locked. The fluorescent light above flickered, bathing the room in brief shadows. Neither of them moved, but the air between them felt charged, dangerous.
Finally, Eli broke the tension, stepping back toward the door. "Whatever that post says… we can't let it derail us. The project comes first."
Riven nodded, but inside, the words the project comes first landed like a challenge. Because for the first time, he wasn't sure if that was true anymore.