Austin's Pov
She let out a sigh.
The kind of sigh that belongs in a drama where the character just realized they've been doing the same math problem wrong for twenty minutes.
That character was currently sitting across from me.
Remi: "Austin," she groaned, stabbing her pencil into the worksheet like it was her mortal enemy. "Algebra is my sworn nemesis. If math were a person, I'd have already tripped it in the hallway."
Her voice echoed slightly across the empty student hall. The fluorescent lights above flickered like they, too, were exhausted by her battle with polynomials.
Austin: "Don't commit violence against imaginary numbers. They've suffered enough."
She looked up at me with those bright, unfiltered eyes of hers. Eyes that always looked like they belonged to someone who ran too far ahead of everyone else and just remembered to look back.
Remi: "You think you're funny, huh?"
Austin: "I think I'm right," I said, grinning.
Remi: "Right, huh? Then help me, genius."
There it was, the inevitable cry for help. Remi Tsuikina had never met a math problem she couldn't defeat by sheer confidence alone… until she did. And that's where I came in.
Austin: "Fine," I said, gathering her scattered notes. "Let's go to the library. It's quieter there."
But she hesitated. Her hand froze mid-reach toward her notebook. Then, that mischievous smile appeared, small at first, then blooming into something undeniably Remi.
Remi: "…Or," she said, twirling her pencil, "we could go to your dorm."
Austin blinked: "…What?"
Remi: "You heard me," she said, leaning back in her chair like she'd just proposed the most natural thing in the world. "It's cozier. And I know Dakota isn't there right now. It's perfect."
Austin: "First, how do you know Dakota isn't there? Second, perfect for what, getting suspended? We're not supposed to be in each other's dorms."
Remi shrugged: "Rules are suggestions."
Austin: "That's… literally not what rules are."
Remi tapped her pencil against her cheek thoughtfully: "Come on, Austin. It's not like this is the first time."
Austin frowned: "You're not seriously bringing that up."
Remi grinned wider: "Oh, I am."
Flashback time.
Freshman year.
Same pair of idiots.
Less algebra, more chaos.
That night, it was raining hard. The kind of rain that made the entire dorm smell like wet socks and broken umbrellas. I'd just settled in for the night when my phone buzzed.
Remi: Emergency. Need help with math. Will die otherwise.
Austin: Rest in Peace Rem.
Remi: Coming over.
And she did.
She climbed the fire escape and knocked on my window like she was starring in a bad romance drama. I'd let her in, half because I didn't want to get caught, half because it was Remi, and resisting her energy was like trying to stop a hurricane with an umbrella.
We barely got through two problems before the dorm advisor made his nightly rounds. Luckily, my roommate at the time was breaking curfew, so Remi pretended to be him sleeping in his bed. After he left, she jumped back on my bed and we got back to studying. I still remember the way her shoulder brushed mine, how her hair smelled faintly of rain and shampoo. I didn't tell her, of course. We got a little too comfortable.
After that, we swore never to do it again.
I guess some promises are meant to be broken though.
Austin: "Okay," I said, massaging my temples. "Let me get this straight. You want me to risk my academic record because… the library's too boring?"
Remi: "Exactly," she said, nodding like it was a solid argument. "You know, for old time's sake."
Austin: "You make it sound like we're reliving a crime."
Remi: "Technically, we are," she said, grinning. "But come on, Austin. When's the last time we did something reckless?"
I opened my mouth, then closed it. Because the truth was… we hadn't. Not since our first year.
Not since before we both started pretending we didn't think about that night every once in a while.
Austin: "…Fine. But if we get caught, you're explaining to the advisor why you're in my room."
Remi laughed: "Deal."
And just like that, I found myself walking beside her down the loud hallway in the boys' dorms, heart doing that annoying thing where it pretends it's auditioning for a drum solo. She had the genuinely bright idea to just throw an oversized hoodie on so nobody would recognize her. It crossed my mind that this has probably been done countless times.
We got my room and Remi looked around, then laughed softly: "You really haven't changed a thing."
Austin: "I rearranged the pencils once."
Remi: "That doesn't count."
She sat on the edge of my bed like she owned the place, her skirt brushing against her knees, her expression open and relaxed. It was unfair how easily she could make a dorm room feel like home.
Austin: "Alright, algebra time," I said, pulling out her worksheet before I could think too much about how her hair glowed under the soft light. "Let's see. Complex rational expressions."
Remi: "Uh-huh," she said, leaning in close. Too close. "But explain it in English, not math."
Austin cleared his throat: "Okay. Think of it like simplifying a fraction, but with variables—"
Remi: "English, please."
Austin: "—Like cutting unnecessary drama out of your life."
Remi: "Ohhh," she said, like everything suddenly made sense. "So basically, we're making equations less annoying?"
Austin: "That's the idea."
Remi: "Then why didn't they just say that?"
Austin: "Because then I wouldn't be here helping you."
Remi smirked: "Smooth."
Austin: "Unintentionally."
We worked through the problems one by one. For a while, it was just pencils scratching, pages flipping, and the occasional exasperated "Wait, what?" from Remi. She wasn't dumb, not by a long shot, but math wasn't her language. Her world was made of motion and feeling, not formulas and fractions.
Still, she tried. And something about her made me feel a certain way.
After about an hour, she yawned and stretched her arms above her head. The movement pulled her hoodie up slightly, exposing a sliver of skin before she noticed and tugged it back down.
I looked away so fast I might've given myself whiplash.
Remi: "Man, I forgot how boring studying can be," she said, leaning back on her hands. "No offense."
Austin: "Some taken."
She laughed, the sound soft and genuine.
Remi: "But… thanks. I mean it."
Austin: "For?"
Remi: "For always helping me, dummy."
I glanced at her. She wasn't looking at me, though, her gaze was somewhere else, softer, unfocused. Like she was remembering something she didn't want to say out loud.
And that silence, the kind that lingers between people who know each other too well, settled over us.
Remi: "Hey," she said suddenly, "do you ever think about… back then?"
I didn't need to ask what she meant.
Austin: "…Sometimes."
Remi smiled faintly: "Me too. We were so stupid."
Austin: "As you can see, we still are."
Remi: "Yeah. But it was kind of fun, wasn't it? Hiding, almost getting caught…"
Austin: "Almost getting expelled," I corrected.
Remi: "Same difference."
Her voice softened again, and for a second, I swore the air in the room changed. Something slow and fragile filled the space between us. Something I didn't know how to handle.
Remi met my eyes: "You haven't changed."
Austin: "That's… not entirely a compliment."
Remi: "It is," she said, smiling. "You're still as popular with everyone. Still as calm when everyone else panics. Still sarcastic when things go wrong. Still…"She hesitated. "…you."
The way she said it, it was too simple to be casual. Too soft to be meaningless.
And suddenly, every reason I had for not doing something stupid tonight disappeared.
I hadn't noticed when, but at some point, Remi had shifted right next to me. By right next to me I mean we were practically attached at our sides. I could feel the faint warmth of her body beside mine, even through her thick hoodie. Maybe it was just my own body heat I was feeling.
She was looking at me, but I was too busy memorizing the shape of her lips and the way her hair framed her face.
For a moment, neither of us said anything.
There were a thousand things I could've said.
A thousand things I wanted to say. But every one of them got stuck somewhere between my throat and my heart.
Once I looked at her she broke eye contact. She laughed softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
Remi: "We need to go ahead and finish this assignment."
Austin: "Yeah, before Dakota gets back."
If I hadn't known any better, I'd say she got cold feet. But I can't even say with certainty if she looks at me the way I look at her. I don't want to make the first move, simply because I don't want to break what we have. But if I'd kept eye contact with her for a few more seconds there, I don't know what would've happened.
Eventually, we actually finished the assignment, or something close enough that Remi declared victory and collapsed onto my sheets, arms stretched out like a starfish.
Remi: "I can't move."
Austin: "You didn't even do most of the work."
Remi: "Emotional labor counts," she said, eyes closed.
I rolled mine but didn't argue. Because the truth was… I didn't want the night to end.
We stayed like that for a minute, both of us lying on the bed, the hum of the lights filling the space between us.
Remi: "Hey, Austin?" she said softly.
Austin: "Yeah?"
Remi: "When we graduate… do you think we'll still hang out like this?"
Her voice was quiet, almost hesitant. The kind of tone someone would use when they didn't want the answer to hurt.
Austin: "I'd like to."
Remi smiled, eyes still closed: "Good."
She finally for up a few seconds after.
Remi: "Well, thanks for saving me from math again."
Austin: "Don't thank me yet. You'll probably forget everything tomorrow."
Remi: "Probably," she said, smiling. "Guess I'll have to ask for another study session."
Austin: "That's what you're planning, isn't it?"
Remi: "Maybe."
She adjusted her bag, turning toward the door. For a moment, she hesitated, then looked back.
Her expression was softer now, no teasing, no grin. Just Remi. Honest and unguarded.
Remi: "Night, Austin," she said quietly.
Austin: "Night."
She opened the door and slipped out into the hallway with her hoodie on. Her footsteps faded.
I sat there longer than I should have, watching the door like it might open again.
After a minute, I layed down, staring at the few half-finished math problems we'd abandoned. My pencil rolled off the page and hit the floor, I didn't bother picking it up.
Because the truth was, the assignment wasn't the only thing unsolved tonight.
Remi and I, we were both stuck in that same strange equation. Two variables orbiting each other, never quite intersecting.
Always almost.
And yet, I couldn't help but think—
Maybe almost was enough. For now.