11

The fluorescent lights of the control room buzzed faintly overhead, casting a sterile glow as the mission debrief ended. Doors slid open with a soft hiss, and two young agents stepped out — one clearly unhappy, the other trying hard to stay composed.

"You didn't have to storm in like that, you know," Alicia muttered harshly, her shoes hitting the tiled floor with sharp steps.

Ali shot her a look. "You didn't have to ignore backup calls either."

"I had the situation under control."

"Right, is that why Bakar had to cover for both of us in the end?"

Alicia's jaw clenched. "Maybe if someone didn't get in my way—"

"—I got in your way by defending you?" he snapped, stopping short to look at her.

She turned to face him, voice taut. "I didn't need defending."

He scoffed, taking a half-step closer. "Yeah? You think taking on someone alone was smart?"

They stared at each other, frustration hanging thick in the air. Neither of them spoke, breaths sharp, words unsaid tightening between them.

"You always do this," she said, arms crossed now. "You jump in, act like you know what's best—"

"Because someone has to make sure you don't get yourself hurt," he shot back, voice lower now, not angry — just frustrated.

"I can take care of myself, Ali."

"In that case, I'll leave you alone." he spat out. "Is that what you want? For me to just stop caring?"

Alicia flinched—barely— but it was enough. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. For a beat, the corridor went quiet except for the hum of distant machines and footsteps far away.

Ali took a small step back, as if to rein himself in, but his eyes never left hers. "...Maybe we both just messed up," he muttered.

"Maybe," she replied, voice quiet. Then, after a pause, she tilted her head —a spark of dry irritation crossing her face, but there was something else there too. Tension. Emotion. And something reckless.

She took a slow step forward, close enough that he could see the flicker in her eyes — guarded, confused, but fierce as always.

"Oh, so now you're acting like some tragic hero?" she muttered, tone sharp but wavering underneath. "Sacrificing yourself, then acting like I'm the problem when I get mad about it?"

Ali narrowed his eyes. "I didn't do it for drama."

"Then why?" she challenged, her voice rising ever so slightly. "Do you keep throwing yourself in harm's way like I—like I'm some fragile piece you have to protect?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, jaw tight. His silence spoke volumes. And somehow, that only pushed her further. 

She scoffed. "Oh, I get it. You think you're being noble or something."

"I just didn't want you to get hurt."

"You're not my shield," she snapped, frustration brimming to the surface. "You're not supposed to be—" She stopped herself, blinking hard.

"Supposed to be what? Why won't you just admit that you didn't listen?" he shot, a glare in his eyes.

"I don't—ish! You're so annoying." the neuro mumbled, at a loss for words. 

"I appreciate it, thank you." he retorted coldly before walking ahead.

Their relationship was like a thread — spread thin between them and their egotistic arguments, delicate and strained, but still there. Still holding them together, no matter how far they pulled. Because something both sides wouldn't admit that they needed one another.

Later that day, the air felt different — not sharp like the mission room, but still heavy. School carried on as usual, but between classes and footsteps, the tension hadn't lifted. It clung to her as she walked through the halls, the echo of their argument still sharp in her ears.

Alicia didn't wait. She caught up to him near the lockers, expression unreadable—too calm to be casual. He turned to look at her.

"...What?" 

"I don't need your help anymore." she stated, no room left for argument. If he even wanted to argue.

"Alright," he responded casually as he picked up his bag. Honestly, she'd expected more than just a casual 'alright'. 

That was it. Just alright. No sarcasm, no pushback, no raised eyebrows. She thought he'd say something. She expected him to, even now—some snarky remark or stubborn comment. But he didn't. Her grip tightened on her own bag strap.

Am I driving myself crazy..?

She really wonders what is this boy doing to her. Or rather, what is she letting the boy do to her. But one thing for sure is that she hates it. Partially. 

She pressed her lips together tightly, then turned, heading in the opposite direction without a word. If he wasn't going to look back, then neither would she. That's what she told herself. And yet, every step she took felt heavier than the last.

When Alicia got home, she took off her shoes and left them by the door before heading to her room to set down her bag. "Hmm, maybe I'll do the following day's homework too." she muttered to herself as she laid out her textbook on her desk.

She returned in home clothes and dropped onto her chair, flipping through the pages of the book. She breezed through the first page easily. Or, most of it, until she saw the last question. 

3x - 7 = 2x + 5

Her pencil paused mid-air.

Wasn't that the question that Ali asked for help with some time ago?

3x - 2x = 5 + 7x = 12

It came too easily. She didn't even need to think — her brain knew the rhythm by now. Like solving for x was no different from breathing. Like teaching him had become... routine. She hated that.

What the heck. 

She groaned in frustration and looked up at the ceiling. 

Concentrate...

She regained her focus and continued doing her homework, forcing her mind to drown out every intrusive thought and return to the familiar rhythm of equations and formulas. Her pencil scribbled steadily across the page, but her grip was just a little too tight, and her handwriting a little too messy — like she was trying to outrun something.

Each question was solved with precision, but none of it felt satisfying. The numbers made sense. Her heart didn't. She rolled her eyes at her own stupidity. 

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Well, not a very good ending. But I'm back..?

I had to make them argue a bit because their relationship seems too eatm2 to be post season 2.