Ephemeral

by evanlevan

The mix of curiosity and subtle challenge in Vi's eyes was almost overwhelming, drawing Caitlyn in like a moth to a flame. In a low, flirtatious tone that was almost a purr, Vi said, "You know, if you wanted to spend more time with me, you could've just asked, Cupcake." Caitlyn's cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, and she fumbled for a response. C-Cupcake!

24. The Things We Do

🎶: Upper West Side - King Princess

Yunarin smiled softly, the kind of smile that didn't seem meant for words. Instead, it felt like an acknowledgment—of Riven, of the moment, of something unspoken that hung in the air between them. Without a word, she reached for her brushes, carefully wiping each one clean before tucking them into a small case.

Riven stood awkwardly to the side, her hands shoved deep into her hoodie pocket as she watched Yuna pack her supplies with care. There was something mesmerizing about the way Yuna moved—calm, precise, like every movement carried intention.

How does she do that? Riven wondered, her pale green eyes lingering on Yuna's hands as they glided over the brushes. She's so... effortless. Like the world doesn't weigh her down the way it does everyone else. It wasn't envy exactly, but something about it gnawed at Riven, a strange mix of admiration and irritation. She didn't know what to make of it, and worse, she wasn't sure she wanted to.

She shifted slightly, her foot scuffing the ground. I shouldn't even be here, she thought, the familiar prickle of unease creeping into her chest. What am I doing? She probably doesn't even—

"Done for the day?" Riven asked finally, her voice breaking the silence in a tone that came out more detached than she intended.

Yuna glanced up, her dark eyes meeting Riven's with a spark of quiet amusement. "I think so," she replied lightly. "I usually lose track of time when I'm painting, but it's starting to get late."

Riven nodded, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She wanted to say something—anything—but the words felt clumsy and too revealing in her head. Instead, she blurted out, "Do you go to Piltover U?"

Yuna paused mid-step, tilting her head slightly, her expression amused. "I do," she said. "I'm in the fine arts program. What about you?"

"Yeah," Riven replied, her tone clipped but not unfriendly. "Not in fine arts, though. Definitely not my thing." Her eyes flicked briefly to Yuna's paint-streaked hands. "Looks like it's yours."

Yuna's lips curved into a faint smile, her expression unreadable. "It is," she said simply.

She paused for a moment, then tilted her head slightly, her dark eyes meeting Riven's with quiet curiosity. "You're probably wondering why you've never seen me around," she said softly, her voice carrying an almost melodic cadence. Before Riven could respond, Yuna gestured lightly at herself, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "It's probably because I'm so pale," she continued, her tone light but playful. "I'm always holed up in the art room. And when I do come out, it's usually late in the afternoon to find a spot to paint. I sound like a vampire, don't I?"

Riven blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected humor. Her lips twitched, almost forming a smile before she quickly cleared her throat and shifted her weight. "Well," she said, her voice dry but tinged with a faint warmth, "I wasn't going to say it... but now that you mention it..."

Yuna chuckled softly, the sound light and genuine, as if she hadn't expected Riven to play along. Riven hesitated, the silence stretching just a moment too long before she cleared her throat. "I'm Riven, by the way," she said, her voice low but steady. But in her mind, she was cursing the faint flutter in her chest. Why does she have to laugh like that?

"I know," Yuna said, cutting her off gently but firmly, her gaze sharp and unwavering.

Riven blinked, caught off guard. "You do?"

Yuna nodded, her smile softening, though her tone remained measured. "Riven Konte. The head of the Konte family. A noblewoman."

Riven's shoulders tensed instinctively at the title, her jaw tightening. "I don't—" she began, but Yuna raised a hand, stopping her.

"I'm not saying it to flatter you," Yuna said, her voice calm but firm. "I just... know who you are. People talk."

Riven exhaled sharply, her gaze flicking to the horizon as if searching for an escape. "Yeah," she muttered, her tone bitter. "People talk too much."

Yuna studied her for a moment, her expression unreadable. "Maybe," she said finally, her tone softer now, "but that doesn't mean they know you."

Riven looked at her then, caught off guard by the unexpected insight. She didn't reply, but the tension in her shoulders eased slightly as she shoved her hands deeper into her pockets. Yuna, seemingly unaware of—or perhaps indifferent to—Riven's unease, continued with a faint smile. "And in case you're also wondering," she said lightly, "I'm not from a noble family, nor am I some weirdo who spends all her time in a basement." She gestured vaguely to her paint supplies. "I'm just a regular citizen trying to make something out of myself through art."

Yuna adjusted her bag as she glanced toward the path leading back to campus. "It's getting late," she said lightly. "And I should probably head back to the dorms. You heading home?"

Riven hesitated, her gaze lingering on Yuna for a moment before she nodded. "Yeah," she said, her voice quieter now. "Guess I am."

Yuna's smile grew, soft yet radiant, as if the setting sun had decided to linger in her expression. It was a smile that seemed too effortless, too beautiful, and it struck Riven with a quiet force she wasn't prepared for. Her heartbeat picked up, thudding in her chest like it was suddenly fighting for her attention.

Riven felt her face heat, and she immediately looked away, fixing her gaze on the fading horizon as if it held all the answers. Get it together, she scolded herself, her hands retreating even deeper into her hoodie pockets. She tried to focus on anything else—the soft rustle of the grass, the cool evening breeze, the fact that she was definitely overreacting.

But it was impossible to ignore how her pulse refused to settle, or how the lingering image of Yuna's smile seemed etched into her mind like one of the strokes on her canvas.

"See you around, Riven," Yuna said, her voice soft but carrying a weight that lingered in the air between them. Riven nodded curtly, not trusting herself to speak without sounding like an idiot. She gave a faint wave as Yuna turned and began walking back toward the path.

Only when Yuna disappeared into the distance did Riven let out a sharp exhale, the sound almost frustrated. What the hell was that? she thought, running a hand through her short, messy hair in agitation. She shook her head, trying to will the warmth in her cheeks to fade, and set off in the opposite direction. Her steps were quick as if she could outrun the strange flutter still sitting in her chest.

🎶: Innocence - Cannon Division, Soren Bryce
Riven's steps faltered as an uneasy feeling crept over her, the kind that prickled at the back of her neck and sent a chill down her spine. Her warmth from earlier vanished in an instant, replaced by a sharp, instinctive tension. She slowed, her eyes darting to the side, toward the shadow of a nearby tree.

"You're slipping, Riven," came a voice, low and mocking, from the darkness.

Riven froze, her fists clenching instinctively in her hoodie pockets as Katarina Du Couteau stepped out from behind the tree. The moonlight caught the crimson streaks in her hair, and her sharp green eyes gleamed with familiar amusement. She leaned casually against the trunk, one foot crossed over the other, as if she hadn't just materialized from the shadows like a specter.

"What do you want, Katarina?" Riven's voice was cold, devoid of the softness it held moments ago.

Katarina smirked, her lips curving into a grin that didn't reach her eyes. "Oh, nothing much," she said lazily, her tone dripping with mockery. "Just enjoying the view. You looked so... flustered back there. It was almost cute."

Riven's jaw tightened, her eyes narrowing. "You spying on me now?"

"Spying?" Katarina tilted her head, pretending to be offended. "Oh dear Riven, don't flatter yourself. I was passing through. Can't help it if you happened to be in my line of sight—acting all soft and distracted. Not very 'head of the Konte family' of you."

Riven took a step forward, her posture rigid, but then she stopped herself. Instead, a faint smirk tugged at her lips as she shifted her weight, her shoulders loosening just enough to exude a calm confidence. She crossed her arms over her chest, her gaze steady and unbothered. "Say whatever you came to say and leave," she said, her tone even but laced with warning, the hint of a challenge glinting in her eyes.

Katarina chuckled, pushing off the tree and sauntering closer, her movements as smooth as they were predatory. "Touchy, touchy. Fine," she said, waving a hand dramatically. "Consider this a friendly reminder: People are watching. You might want to be careful who you're seen getting cozy with."

Riven's fists clenched tighter, but her face remained impassive. "You don't know anything about it."

"Maybe not," Katarina said with a shrug, her smirk never wavering. "But the rumors write themselves, don't they? And you've always been so good at making yourself the center of attention—even when you don't mean to."

Riven didn't respond, her gaze locked on Katarina's, cold and unyielding.

"Relax, Riven," Katarina said, her voice dropping to a quieter, sharper tone. "Just some advice. You can take it or leave it." With that, she turned on her heel, tossing a final glance over her shoulder. "Oh, and good luck with your little painter friend. She seems... nice."

Riven gritted her teeth, but instead of letting her frustration show, she let a faint smirk creep onto her lips. She tilted her head slightly, her voice calm and cutting as she spoke. "Does daddy know about your secret meetings with Swain? You know, your father's biggest rival in business?"

Katarina's smirk faltered for the briefest of moments, her sharp green eyes narrowing. "Careful, Riven," she said, her tone dropping to something quieter, more dangerous.

Riven shrugged, her expression unbothered. "Just asking," she said smoothly, her voice dripping with mock nonchalance. "Seems like you're awfully busy meddling in everyone else's business. Thought maybe you'd be a little more worried about your own."

Katarina's lips pressed into a thin line, her demeanor shifting as she crossed her arms, her sharp eyes narrowing. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, don't I?" Riven said, her smirk widening as her head tilted slightly, her face twisting into a strange, unsettling mix of coldness and excitement. Her pale green eyes glinted dangerously, a flicker of something predatory dancing just beneath the surface. "Seems to me like you're playing both sides. Lux thinks you're doing this for her, based on whatever misguided debt you both think you owe each other…" She leaned in just slightly, her tone dropping as her smirk stretched wider, almost unnervingly calm. "…But Swain? My dear Katarina, what on earth are you doing?"

Katarina's expression hardened, her hands falling to her sides as she tensed. "You don't know a damn thing," she snapped, though her voice wavered just enough to betray the flicker of doubt creeping in.

Riven chuckled, a low, humorless sound as she straightened up. "You keep telling yourself that," she said softly, her twisted smile fading into a cold, calculating stare. "Just remember… when you gaze into the abyss, it doesn't just look back— it swallows you whole."

Katarina clenched her jaw, her posture stiff as she took a step back, clearly recalculating. Riven stayed perfectly still, her gaze locked onto Katarina's like a hunter watching prey, unyielding and unbothered.

Katarina's jaw tightened, her sharp green eyes blazing with frustration. She stood firm, then let out a bitter laugh, her lips curling into a sardonic smirk. "At least Swain is willing to grant me my freedom," she spat, her voice laced with venom. "That's more than my own father ever offered."

Riven's smirk faded slightly, her expression cooling into something sharper. "You think Swain's offering freedom?" she asked evenly, her tone devoid of judgment but icy enough to chill the air between them. "You're smarter than that, Katarina. Swain doesn't grant anything for free. You're trading one leash for another."

Katarina's smirk returned, colder now, as she stepped closer, her green eyes narrowing. "You don't know as much as you think you do," she said, her voice low and cutting. "I'm not bound to my father anymore. The Crownsguard family made sure of that. Lux's family pulled the strings, paid the debts, and severed the ties that kept me in his grasp."

Riven blinked, tilting her head slightly as she studied Katarina, her expression unreadable. "So, what? You're repaying them by playing their daughter's little games?" she asked, her voice calm but sharp as glass.

"You don't understand the kind of debt I owe. They gave me something I never thought I'd have—freedom. Real freedom. Swain is just... insurance." Katarina shot back, her voice rising.

"Insurance," Riven repeated, her smirk returning faintly, though devoid of humor. "So that's what you call selling out now."

Katarina's fists clenched at her sides, but she didn't rise to the bait. Instead, she straightened her posture, her tone cooling into something composed. "You can think whatever you want, Riven," she said, her voice dismissive. "But I don't answer to anyone. I do what I want, when I want. That's more than you can say."

Riven's smirk didn't falter, but her gaze sharpened, pale green eyes narrowing. "If you believe that," she said softly, her words cutting deeper for their quiet delivery, "you're even more lost than I thought."

Katarina's glare hardened, but her voice trembled with restrained fury as she snapped back, "You don't fucking know what I had to go through."

"No," Riven replied, her tone cold but not unkind. "But I know what happens when you build your freedom on someone else's leash. It's not freedom, Katarina—it's a longer chain."

Katarina's lips twisted into a smirk, defiance and venom burning in her eyes. "Judge me all you want," she said, her voice low and biting. "But don't act like you're any better than me. You're just dressed better."

Riven's smirk didn't waver, but her pale green eyes glinted with coldness. "And yet," she said smoothly, her tone sharp enough to slice through the tension, "I'm not the one running to Swain for scraps of freedom."

Katarina chuckled darkly, shaking her head as she stepped closer, her movements deliberate. "You think that makes you superior?" she asked, her voice mocking. "You're still a Konte, tied to your family name just like I was. You wear your title like armor, but it's just another chain."

Riven's jaw tightened slightly, but she remained composed, her smirk a shield against Katarina's words. "Maybe," she said coolly, her voice dropping. "But at least I'm not fooling myself into thinking I've broken free."

Katarina's smirk faltered for a heartbeat, the fire in her eyes dimming to reveal cracks beneath her defiance. "You can stand there and lecture me all you want," she snapped, her voice raw. "But at least I've done something. I've fought for my freedom, clawed for it, paid for it in blood. What have you done? Except stand there and pretend you're above it all?"

Riven took a deliberate step forward, her expression calm but her gaze piercing. "I survived," she said evenly, the weight of the word carrying years of unspoken battles. "And I didn't sell my soul to do it."

Katarina's lips parted, but this time, her smirk returned—not the bitter, sardonic one from before, but something darker, almost pitying. She took a step back, her gaze never leaving Riven's. "Then I wonder," she said softly, her voice laced with a chilling edge, "how you'll be able to protect your close ones without having to sell a part of yourself to do it."

Katarina tilted her head, her smirk twisting cruelly as she took another step back into the shadows. "Enjoy your moral high ground, Riven," she added, her voice dripping with venom. "We'll see how long it lasts." With that, Katarina turned on her heel, her laughter trailing behind her as she disappeared into the shadows.

Riven stood still for a moment, her chest tight, Katarina's words lingering like the echo of a distant scream. She forced a sharp exhale, loosening her fists as she turned back toward the path. So now we know what it is you owe.

-୨ ୧-

🎶: Criminal - Fiona Apple

Caitlyn stood in the stillness of the archery range, the faint creak of the bowstring the only sound breaking the silence. The targets stood at a distance, their concentric circles barely visible under the dim overhead lights. She nocked an arrow, her hands steady out of habit, but her mind was anything but.

She couldn't stop thinking about Vi.

Her first real sexual encounter replayed in her mind like a vivid dream she never wanted to wake from, each detail etched so deeply it felt like part of her, pulling her back into its warmth with every quiet moment. It wasn't just the act itself, though the heat of their closeness lingered on her skin like an imprint. It was the way Vi had looked at her—a look that made Caitlyn feel like she wasn't just someone in a long line of expectations but someone truly seen.

Caitlyn drew the bowstring back, the tension in her arms matching the tangle in her chest. She exhaled slowly, releasing the arrow. It flew true, hitting the center of the target, but she barely noticed. Her thoughts drifted to the way Vi's voice had softened as she whispered Caitlyn's name. The way her calloused hands had traced her skin with surprising care, like she was something fragile yet unbreakable.

Why can't I shake this right now? Caitlyn wondered, lowering her bow. She prided herself on her control, on her ability to compartmentalize and focus. But Vi had undone her in ways she hadn't anticipated, slipping past her walls with a reckless charm and a tender touch. It was maddening and intoxicating all at once.

She walked to retrieve her arrows, her steps measured but her mind racing. She could still feel the weight of Vi's presence, the way her laughter had filled the quiet spaces between them, the warmth of her touch lingering long after they had parted. Caitlyn had always thought vulnerability was a weakness, something to be avoided at all costs. But with Vi, it hadn't felt like weakness. It had felt like freedom.

The next arrow felt heavier as Caitlyn nocked it, her fingers pausing against the string. Is this what it's supposed to feel like? she mused. This... vulnerability? The memory of Vi's lips on hers, the way their bodies had fit together as though they were meant to, sent a rush of heat to her cheeks. She released the arrow, missing the center by an inch—a rare lapse in focus.

Her brow furrowed as she lowered the bow, her heart still unsteady from the flood of emotions. But the warmth that Vi had sparked in her was quickly met by a chilling thought: What would my mother say if she knew?

She could already picture her mother's reaction—the cold, calculating gaze that seemed to strip away any pretense, the disapproving arch of her brow sharp enough to cut, and the clipped, icy tone that carried the weight of unspoken judgment, heavier than any shouted argument ever could. To her mother, everything was about the Kiramman name, the legacy, the spotless reputation they had worked so hard to maintain. A relationship with someone like Vi would be seen as a scandal.

No, Caitlyn thought bitterly, not just a scandal. A disgrace. Her mother wouldn't see the kindness in Vi's eyes, the loyalty in her actions, or the depth of her heart. All she would see was someone who didn't fit into their perfect world.

The price of letting their relationship be known loomed large in Caitlyn's mind. Whispers at society events, the pointed stares of those who thrived on gossip, the quiet judgment of family friends who would never dare say anything outright but whose opinions would be clear in every glance. It wouldn't just be her reputation on the line—it would be her family's.

Her grip tightened on the bow, her knuckles white against the wood. Is this worth it? she asked herself, the question cutting deeper than she expected. But the answer came almost immediately, quiet but resolute: Yes. Whatever the cost, Caitlyn knew she couldn't let go of what she'd found with Vi. Not yet.

Caitlyn had been so lost in her thoughts, her focus drifting between the target in front of her and the vivid memories of Vi, that she didn't notice the figure watching her from the edge of the archery range. It wasn't until a faint shift of movement caught her eye that she turned, her heart skipping slightly at the sight of someone standing at the very spot Vi had often claimed at the beginning of the school year.

The faint hint of ginger hair confirmed it before she saw the polite smile—Maddie Nolan. She approached with an ease that felt rigid, her posture too straight, her hands clasped lightly in front of her, as if she'd rehearsed the moment. Caitlyn couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease. Maddie's smile was too polite. It lacked a certain warmth, like it was designed to put someone at ease rather than genuinely express it.

Still, Caitlyn pushed the thought aside. Don't overthink it, she told herself, lowering her bow slightly as Maddie drew closer. Vi had already occupied enough space in her head tonight; there was no room for suspicion, even if something about Maddie's presence felt... off.

"Evening," Maddie greeted, her tone light and conversational, her head tilting slightly as her gaze flicked from Caitlyn to the target. "I didn't mean to interrupt your practice. I just... noticed you here and thought I'd say hello."

Caitlyn offered a polite smile in return, though it felt stiff even to her. "Hello," she replied, her voice calm but guarded. She straightened her posture, instinctively adjusting her stance like she was bracing for something. "I didn't expect anyone else out here this hour."

Maddie's smile didn't waver, but there was a glint in her eyes—calm, curious, and unsettlingly observant. "Neither did I," she said smoothly. "But I've found this campus always holds a surprise or two. You just have to know where to look."

Caitlyn responded with a noncommittal "Hmm," the sound clipped as she turned to her equipment. Without another glance at Maddie, she began clearing up her gear, carefully placing her bow into its case and collecting her arrows with deliberate precision. She decided then and there that she was done with practice for the night.

"Did you need something?" Caitlyn asked, her tone polite but distant as she continued to pack. "Is it regarding the student body?"

Her words were pointedly casual, as if to signal that whatever Maddie wanted, it should be quick and to the point. She didn't look up, her focus remaining on her task as she snapped the case shut.

As Caitlyn turned her back to finish securing her gear, Maddie's polite smile morphed into a faint smirk, her eyes narrowing with something akin to amusement. It was gone in an instant, replaced by her carefully composed expression as Caitlyn turned to face her again.

"Oh no," Maddie said lightly, her tone smooth and disarming. "I was actually just wandering around, taking a break from studying. You know how it is." She gestured vaguely toward the archery range with a practiced ease. "But since I ran into you, I thought—why not take the chance to chat?"

Caitlyn raised a brow, her hand still resting on her bow case.

Maddie's polite smile widened just enough to feel inviting. "Would you like to grab some coffee with me?" she asked, her voice carrying an air of casual friendliness. "I realized we haven't really taken any time to get to know each other better—not since I joined the student government."

Caitlyn finished packing her gear, carefully placing her bow case beside her quiver. She tugged off her archery glove from her shooting hand, her fingers briefly flexing against the cool air. Maddie's words hung in the silence between them, and for a moment, Caitlyn hesitated.

Coffee? With Maddie? The idea felt... strange. Polite though she seemed, there was something about Maddie that always felt just slightly out of place—like she was saying the right words, but with the wrong intentions. Still, Caitlyn couldn't immediately dismiss the idea. Maybe I'm overthinking it. She is in student government now. Building rapport isn't the worst idea. She thought about her mother's countless lectures on the importance of connections and diplomacy. The Kiramman heir didn't shy away from uncomfortable conversations. Besides, what harm could one coffee do?

Her shooting hand brushed against the edge of her bow case as she straightened, her fingers lingering there for a second longer than necessary. Caitlyn exhaled softly, glancing up at Maddie. Her smile was still polite, her stance relaxed. She's just being friendly, Caitlyn told herself. Right?

Her expression remained calm, giving nothing away. "Sure," she said casually, slinging her gear bag over her shoulder. "I know a place near campus. Give me ten minutes—I'll need to change in the locker room."

Maddie's smile brightened, her enthusiasm spilling into her tone. "Perfect! I'd love to see where you like to go." She clasped her hands lightly in front of her, her posture almost too eager. "Take your time; I'll wait right here."

Caitlyn nodded once, her gaze briefly flicking to Maddie before turning toward the locker room at the edge of the archery range. "Alright, won't be long."

As Caitlyn walked away, she felt Maddie's eyes lingering on her back, a sensation that made her shoulders tense slightly. She tightened her grip on her bag strap, brushing off the faint prick of unease. It's just coffee, she reminded herself. Nothing more, nothing less.

-୨ ୧-

The small coffee shop sat nestled in a quiet corner near campus, its golden lights casting a warm glow over the cobblestone street. The sign above the door read The Hexbrew Haven, its lettering carved with intricate hexagonal designs that mirrored Piltover's iconic craftsmanship. Inside, the hum of conversation blended with the soft hiss of the espresso machine, creating an atmosphere that was both lively and inviting.

Caitlyn stepped through the heavy wooden door, holding it briefly for Maddie, who followed with her usual polite smile. The sharp aroma of freshly ground coffee greeted them, mingling with the faint scent of cinnamon from the pastries displayed by the counter. Caitlyn let her gaze drift over the familiar brass fixtures and sleek tables etched with delicate patterns—details that made The Hexbrew Haven a favorite refuge for late-night thinkers and coffee lovers alike.

"This place is charming," Maddie remarked, her eyes scanning the eclectic mix of industrial design and cozy warmth. "I can see why it's popular."

Caitlyn gave a small nod, leading the way to a table tucked by the window. "It's quiet, and the coffee's good," she said matter-of-factly, pulling out a chair. "The menu's on the board if you want to check it out."

As they approached the counter, Maddie glanced at Caitlyn. "What do you usually get?" she asked, her tone casual but curious.

"The Hexbrew special," Caitlyn replied simply. "Strong, smooth, not too sweet."

Maddie nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Sounds perfect. I'll take care of it.

Before Caitlyn could respond, Maddie had already stepped up to the counter, ordering for both of them with an ease that left Caitlyn momentarily caught off guard. Shrugging it off, she turned and made her way to a small table by the window, setting her gear down as she settled into her chair. Maddie joined her moments later, placing a steaming mug in front of her. "Hexbrew special, as promised," Maddie said with a grin.

"Thanks," Caitlyn replied, lifting the mug and letting the warm, rich aroma calm the faint edge of her unease.

Maddie settled into the chair across from Caitlyn, her posture relaxed as she cradled her own mug. "So," she began, her tone light but measured, "how's student government been treating you lately? I imagine it's a lot of responsibility."

"It's manageable," Caitlyn replied, taking a small sip of her coffee. The warmth spread through her, grounding her momentarily. "You get used to the workload."

Maddie nodded, swirling her spoon idly in her cup. "You must have a knack for it—keeping everything balanced. The duties, the pressure, the... expectations," she said, her gaze flicking briefly to Caitlyn's face. "Must run in the family, I suppose."

Caitlyn's grip on the mug tightened slightly, but her expression remained composed. "I manage," she said again, her tone even. "It's part of the job."

Maddie tilted her head, her smile softening, though her eyes gleamed with curiosity. "And yet, you still find time for other pursuits. Archery, for one. And... other things," she added, her voice dropping ever so slightly.

Caitlyn faltered, her gaze narrowing just a fraction. "Other… things?" she asked, her voice calm but edged with caution.

Maddie's smile widened ever so slightly, though it remained polite. "Oh, just things people notice. You and Vi, for example." She leaned back in her chair, taking a slow sip of her coffee, as though her words carried no weight at all. "It's interesting, isn't it? How people talk."

Caitlyn's chest tightened. Her expression didn't change, but the air between them felt heavier. "People talk about all sorts of things," she said, her voice carefully neutral. "I don't see how my personal life is relevant to anyone else."

"True," Maddie replied, her smile unwavering. "But some things draw more attention than others. Especially when they involve someone like you, Caitlyn. The Kiramman heir. The face of grace and discipline. People tend to notice when someone like that... lets their guard down."

Caitlyn's fingers tensed against the warm ceramic of her mug. "I'm not sure what you're implying," she said, her voice steady, though her stomach churned. "If you have a point, Maddie, I suggest you make it."

Maddie chuckled softly, leaning back in her chair. "No point. Just an observation. It's admirable, really. The way you carry it all. The expectations, the scrutiny... the risk."

Caitlyn's jaw tightened. "Risk?"

Maddie swirled her coffee idly, her smile polite yet pointed. "Well, there's always a risk, isn't there? When you have so much to lose. Reputation, family standing... trust." She looked up, her gaze steady. "And all it takes is one rumor, one misunderstanding, for everything to unravel. But you know that already, don't you?"

Caitlyn felt the unease grow, a knot tightening in her chest. She set her mug down carefully, her eyes locking onto Maddie's with quiet intensity. "Strength isn't about avoiding risks, Maddie," she said, her tone even but firm. "It's about knowing which ones are worth taking."

Maddie tilted her head slightly, her polite smile never faltering, though her eyes glinted with something unreadable. "And you're certain this one is?" she asked lightly, as if the question held no weight.

Caitlyn didn't flinch, her posture remaining composed as she met Maddie's gaze head-on. "I am," she replied, her voice steady. "But thank you for your concern."

Maddie chuckled softly, leaning back in her chair with an air of practiced ease. "Just looking out for you, Caitlyn," she said smoothly. "After all, it's not every day I get to sit down with someone so... remarkable."

Caitlyn didn't reply, her grip tightening slightly around her mug. Instead, she took a measured sip of her coffee, letting the warmth steady her as the undercurrent of Maddie's words lingered in the air between them.

What are you playing at, Maddie? Caitlyn wondered, her gaze briefly flicking to Maddie's polished expression. She knew Maddie's story—or at least the version Maddie had shared. The ginger-haired transfer student from a prestigious academy, known for her impeccable grades and politeness. On paper, Maddie Nolan seemed perfect but Caitlyn had learned long ago that perfection like that rarely came without thorns.

Maddie had joined the student government just weeks ago, quickly ingratiating herself. And yet, Caitlyn couldn't shake the feeling that Maddie's smiles were always too perfect, her words too precise. There was a subtle control in the way she spoke, the way she carried herself, as if every action was carefully measured to elicit a specific response. She's a mystery wrapped in a perfectly tied bow, Caitlyn thought. But people don't transfer from elite schools for "fun," no matter what she says. There's always a reason, always something left unsaid.

And then there was the way Maddie watched people—not with the casual observation of someone merely curious, but with the intensity of someone cataloging details for later use. It was weird, like being dissected under a polite smile.

Whatever you're after, Maddie, I'm not going to make it easy for you.

-୨ ୧-

🎶: Ring - Selena Gomez

Vi slouched in her chair, her head resting in one hand as she flipped through a textbook with all the enthusiasm of someone watching paint dry. Across from her, Loris was meticulously highlighting passages in his notes, his precision almost artistic. The man was practically speed-reading like he'd popped an Adderall and washed it down with a triple shot of espresso, his highlighter zipping across the page so fast it was a miracle the paper didn't tear.

Samantha, on the other hand, sat sideways in her chair, her legs draped over the armrest as she tapped her pen against her notebook, clearly more interested in coming up with sarcastic commentary than actually studying.

"This," Vi said, jabbing her pencil at the book in front of her, "is actual torture. Who needs to know the quadratic formula in real life? I'm going to punch the next person who tells me it's useful."

Loris didn't look up. "Vi, you're not even studying math. That's a Hextech history textbook."

"Whatever," Vi groaned, tossing her pencil onto the table. "It's all the same: boring, pointless, and designed to make me hate myself."

Samantha leaned back in her chair, fixing Vi with a pointed glare. "Well, at least you're here and not off distracting Caitlyn. Pretty sure she needs her brain functioning for those exams."

Vi looked up from her textbook, a devilishly handsome smirk spreading across her face. "Oh, Sammy," she drawled, her tone dripping with mischief. "I don't distract Caitlyn. I motivate her."

Loris groaned audibly, dropping his highlighter onto the table. "Can we not?" he muttered, his voice pained. "I'm trying to preserve what's left of my sanity here."

Samantha didn't miss a beat, leaning forward with a smirk that was equal parts amused and exasperated. "Motivate her? Please, Vi. Caitlyn's probably losing brain cells just being around you. If anything, she needs recovery time from your kind of motivation."

Vi's smirk didn't falter; if anything, it grew more wicked. She leaned back in her chair, balancing it on two legs as her gaze met Samantha's. "Oh, trust me," Vi said, her voice dropping just enough to make Loris groan preemptively. "Cait's pretty... focused when I'm around. Especially when it comes to hitting all the right spots."

Loris immediately slapped his hands over his ears, his face flushing a deep shade of red as realization dawned on him. He had known Vi long enough to understand exactly what her suggestive remark implied, and that knowledge was something he clearly wasn't prepared for. His expression contorted in mock agony, though the embarrassment was all too real. "Nope! Nope! I didn't hear that. This conversation never happened."

Samantha's eyes widened to the size of saucers, her jaw dropping in sheer disbelief. She sat there frozen for a second, processing Vi's words, when her gaze flicked to Loris. His hands were clamped over his ears, his face flushing a deep crimson, a look of utter mortification plastered across his features. That was all it took. A metaphorical lightbulb pinged in Samantha's head, her expression shifting from shock to dawning realization. Her mouth formed a small "oh," and she pointed a finger between Vi and Loris, her voice rising. "Wait. You—" She gasped.

Vi didn't say a word at first. Instead, she let her devilish smirk grow wider as her eyebrows moved up and down in a suggestive rhythm, the perfect picture of mischief. The gesture was maddeningly smug, paired with the kind of roguish confidence that could make anyone want to throw something at her—and Samantha almost did.

"Oh my god," Samantha gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. "You're serious, aren't you? You and Caitlyn—this is real?"

Vi leaned back, balancing her chair on two legs again, arms crossed as she grinned at Samantha like a cat who'd just caught a particularly tasty mouse. Samantha pointed an accusatory finger at her, still processing the bombshell.

"You're the worst," she hissed. "The absolute worst. Caitlyn is a goddess among mortals, and you're here turning it into... into innuendos!"

"Relax," Vi drawled. "It's not like she's complaining."

"Unbelievable," Samantha muttered, leaning back in her chair with a dazed expression.

Loris groaned, dramatically slamming his textbook shut. "I hate this conversation. I hate it so much."

Vi just chuckled, shooting him a wink. "Love you too, buddy."

Before Vi could continue reveling in Samantha's spiraling excitement, the library doors swung open, and in walked Seraphine, her pastel pink hair practically glowing under the harsh library lighting. She had a pair of oversized headphones around her neck and carried a stack of brightly colored notebooks hugged to her chest. She stopped abruptly, her gaze locking onto their table, and her expression turned into one of exaggerated dismay.

"Wow," Seraphine announced, loud enough to earn a chorus of "shhh!" from annoyed students nearby. She strode over to them with theatrical exasperation. "You guys are so loud. Seriously, this is a library, not a group therapy session."

Loris let out a long, suffering groan, slumping forward to rest his head on the table. "Thank you," he muttered into his arms. "Someone finally said it."

Before anyone could respond to Seraphine's outburst, another figure appeared behind her, moving with a quiet grace that immediately caught everyone's attention. A beautiful girl with pale skin and jet-black hair, her bangs framing her delicate face perfectly, lingered just behind Seraphine. Her dark eyes were calm, almost shy, as they swept over the group. She carried a small sketchpad under one arm and a satchel slung casually over her shoulder.

"Oh, right!" Seraphine exclaimed, spinning around with her usual flair. "Everyone, this is Yunarin. But you can call her Yuna. She's, like, amazing at art and super cool to hang out with. We've been bonding over her creative genius." She gestured at Yuna with both hands like a game show host unveiling the grand prize.

"Uh, hi," Yuna said softly, offering a polite smile and a small wave. Her voice was low and smooth, carrying a quiet warmth that contrasted with Seraphine's boundless energy.

Vi and Loris exchanged a glance, both momentarily stunned into silence. Vi's eyebrows raised slightly as she gave Yuna an approving once-over, while Loris, for all his usual composure, fumbled with his highlighter, nearly dropping it. His ears flushed a telltale red as he quickly looked back down at his notes, though not before sneaking another glance at Yuna.

"Whoa," Vi said finally, breaking the silence with a low whistle. "Seraphine wasn't kidding. You're, uh... really talented, huh?"

"Talented," Loris echoed, his voice slightly strained. "Yes. Very talented."

Samantha, who had been watching the interaction with a growing smirk, suddenly felt her cheeks heat up. She blinked, sitting up straighter as if to regain some sense of professionalism, but her gaze lingered on Yuna for a beat too long. Did I just blush? she wondered, horrified at the possibility.

Yuna, meanwhile, seemed entirely unfazed by the attention, though a small furrow appeared between her brows as she looked around at the group, her calm gaze sweeping over their wide-eyed stares. "Ah, talented?" she echoed, tilting her head slightly. "I just met you guys."

Her words hung in the air for a moment before Vi, Loris, and Samantha all seemed to snap out of their daze simultaneously. Vi shifted in her seat, leaning back casually as if she hadn't been staring. Loris straightened up awkwardly, fiddling unnecessarily with his pen like it was a lifeline. Samantha coughed into her hand, sitting up straighter and very deliberately focusing on the edge of the table as if it were the most fascinating thing in the room.

"Right," Vi said, her voice coming out just a little too smooth. "We meant... Seraphine said you're an artist. That kind of talent."

"Yeah," Loris added quickly, his voice a touch too loud as he shuffled his notes like they'd suddenly become urgent reading material. "Art. Sketching. Definitely what we were talking about."

Samantha nodded vigorously, still avoiding eye contact. "Totally. Big fans of... artistic talent."

Yuna blinked at them, her head tilting slightly as if she were trying to piece together an unsolved mystery. Then, as if deciding it wasn't worth the effort, she simply smiled again, the faint curve of her lips effortlessly serene. "Well, thank you," she said softly, her tone polite but faintly amused.

Seraphine, oblivious to the collective awkwardness, grinned brightly as she leaned back in her chair. "See? I told you guys she's amazing. And you're all just sitting there, acting like you've never seen someone pretty before."

Vi cleared her throat, glancing pointedly at her textbook. "Can we please go back to studying before this turns into some kind of roast?"

"Oh, absolutely not," Samantha muttered, though the corners of her lips twitched in suppressed laughter.

Loris groaned, burying his face in his hands. "This is why I don't go out."

"And speaking of amazing..." Seraphine turned to Yuna with a theatrical flourish. "Guess what, everyone? Yunarin and I are teaming up for a duet after exams for the Inventor's Competition as performers! It's going to be epic."

Vi's ears perked up, her grin sharpening with interest. "The Inventor's Competition, huh?" she said, leaning forward slightly. "By the Konte's?"

Seraphine clapped her hands together, practically bouncing in her seat. "Yes! The very one! Isn't it exciting? Yuna and I are going to be the musical act for the final round."

Yuna's head tilted slightly at the mention of the Konte name, her brows furrowing in thought. "Konte?" she repeated softly, her gaze shifting to Vi. "As in... Riven Konte? Are you close to her?"

Vi glanced over at Yuna, her sharp blue eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to gauge the question's intent. But before she could respond, Samantha cut in with a casual shrug. "We know Riven through Caitlyn," she said, her tone light but laced with curiosity. "They seem to be good friends."

Yuna's expression shifted subtly at the answer, her faint smile dimming just a touch as her gaze dropped to her sketchpad. "Oh," she murmured, the word soft and laced with disappointment, though she quickly schooled her features into neutrality.

The reaction didn't escape Loris, who raised a brow and exchanged a brief glance with Vi. His sharp instincts caught the flicker of something beneath Yuna's polite exterior. Vi, however, stayed silent, leaning back in her chair with an unreadable expression. Her gaze lingered on Yuna for a moment longer before she finally looked away, her lips pressing into a faint line as if choosing not to comment.

The atmosphere shifted slightly, a subtle tension settling over the table before Seraphine, blissfully unaware, clapped her hands together. "Well! Now that we've established all these random connections, can we please get back to me and Yuna's amazing duet? Priorities, people!"

END OF CHAPTER TWELVE