12

The classroom of SMT Cyberaya buzzed with the usual morning noise as Alicia walked in, unfazed as always. Ali was already seated, elbow on desk, flipping his pen between his fingers like he had nothing better to do. As she passed his desk toward her seat in front, he looked up at her as something bold stirred inside him.

"Still angry from yesterday? You looked pretty cute when you were mad." he commented, wearing a smirk. 

Alicia paused mid-step for a second before turning her head slightly enough to meet his smug look with one of her own. "Cute? You must've been looking at your reflection." 

Her smile was full of superiority— the kind that said try me without a word. As she sat down, a beat of stunned silence passed through those near enough to hear. Then, a whisper, not-so-quietly: "Wait— I thought you overheard them ending some sort of fake relationship?"

Ali said nothing. Alicia turned back and took her seat like nothing had happened. But the room definitely noticed. The air felt a bit more heavier than it was. 

As calm and composed as she looked, she was having an absolute mental crises on the inside. What the heck? Less than 24 hours ago, they couldn't stand to be in the same room without throwing dagger-like glares. Now, he called her cute—and she reciprocated the compliment—off reflex? They sure did have a rather distinctive relationship.

...

Ali caught up beside Alicia just outside their classroom, falling into step with her like it was the most natural thing in the world. She didn't acknowledge him, and he didn't say anything at first either. They both knew where they were heading. Not that anyone would care.

"Do you always walk this fast?" he asked after a beat, glancing sideways, "or are you just trying to escape me?"

She didn't stop walking, but let out a sarcastic breath. "Escape you? Please. If I wanted to escape you, you'd be eating dust by now."

"Ouch." He chuckled. "Good to know you've thought about it."

"I think about a lot of things. More relevant things."

"Oh?" His voice dipped just slightly. "Do I make the list often?"

That earned him a side-eye so sharp it could've sliced through metal. But her lips twitched— almost a smile.

"Do you think you'd be worthy to be in the list?"

"If I said what's true, you'd deny it—even if your face betrayed you."

Alicia looked away immediately, clasping her fist—way too aware of her expression. "You must be delusional." she muttered.

"Only about you." The words slipped out too smoothly. Her expression faltered the moment they sank in.

"Ha—what?" She turned, eyes locking onto his like a laser.

Ali blinked. Then immediately looked away, placing a hand on the back of his neck like he could undo the words that had just flown out of his mouth. "Disregard that..." he muttered, voice lower now—like if he said it quietly enough, it wouldn't count.

...

Alicia sat hunched over her desk, textbook open, notes half-filled, and her pencil tapping against the margin. She'd told herself she'd revise. That was the plan. But her focus kept slipping. Numbers blurred. Sentences lost structure. Somewhere between scribbling equations and underlining key points, her hand started moving on its own.

Didn't he say he didn't like me?

She stared blankly at her notes. The sentence echoed like a punchline to a joke she didn't get.

Then—why did he say all that...

If that's how it was going to be, then she was done. No more spirals. No more hope. No more whatever-that-was earlier. She was going to stop liking him. Immediately. Completely. Utterly.

...Somehow.

Surely, her self-discipline could do it. Right? Just have to make things platonic. She only needs to figure out how. And that is a job for another day, as she is starving right now. Alicia made her way to the kitchen cupboard to find some bread.

She sat on the couch as she took a bite of the bread. Her thoughts wandered back to the academy earlier —when Iman asked if she was alright, apparently because Moon thought she was acting off.

Typical Moon. If Alicia doesn't talk to Ali, she'd probably assume something was off. Moon wasn't wrong though—she had always guessed correctly whenever they'd argued, or if something awkward happened between them.

Now that she thinks about it, why does she seem to 'ship' and suspect them so much? They weren't obvious. It's not like they ever did anything domestic. They weren't even best friends. Even though if someone looked at them, they would think they are, considering how much they 'unwillingly' hung out.

But she can't stop her. Moon will be Moon. And she always will.

She stood up from the couch and made her way to the stairs. Each step felt oddly heavy, like her thoughts had weight. At the top, she turned into her room, flipping on the light with a mechanical flick. Her gaze swept across the familiar clutter—textbooks, a notepad with a half-written sentence she didn't remember starting. Quietly, she moved to her desk and began putting things back into her school bag, straightening notebooks with more precision than necessary.

Once everything was back in place, she stood there for a second, staring blankly at her desk as if she'd forgotten why she was even there. Then, with a quiet sigh, she turned away and headed to the bathroom to wash up. Her feet dragged a little more than usual. The cool tiles met her skin as she splashed water on her face, but it did little to wake her. Maybe she wasn't physically tired—but her brain definitely was.

The water was cold against her skin, but it didn't chase away the heaviness in her head. She stared at her reflection for a moment, towel in hand, lips pressed into a thin line. Something had to change. Anything to make her feel a little less like she was spiralling.

She tried to think: how do you lighten things up for yourself when everything feels confusing? Because clearly, brooding in silence wasn't helping.

Maybe she needed to laugh. Or sleep. Or delete all her feelings permanently, but that option wasn't exactly available. 

She rolled her eyes at her own thoughts. Among all she had listed, sleep was definitely it. Absolutely it. Even if it was barely 8pm. The more sleep, the merrier after all. Right?

She let out a breath and turned off the bathroom light, shuffling back into her room. That's enough productivity for one night. 

Flopping onto the bed as she opened her phone, Alicia scrolled through her notifications aimlessly. No new messages, not that she was expecting any. She paused at their last conversation thread for half a second before locking her screen again.

Okay—she cannot put up with it any longer. She is in desperate need for sleep. Or at least enough sleep to pretend she has her life together.

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