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Outside the windows of the laboratory, the sky had changed into a dusty violet with the help of dusk, which pressed a cool palm against the glass. Within that narrow room of used equipment, the light of day died slowly, making its transformation almost impossible to miss. Banners had been strung across the corridors of the school, and they danced calmly to the announcements that were repeated with relentless cheer. It almost compared to the constant commentary of the teachers, who spoke of innovation as if it were a moral virtue.
Apollo received all of this stimulation with simple disdain. The results he expected were more of a habit since discipline was cultivated in the back of his mind. It was natural to him, despite not falling perfectly under the category of nature and its derivatives. Even there, beneath the fluorescent lights, he felt the need to be brighter than anything. In the rigid line of his posture there were more desires than he could count. He stood with his sleeves rolled precisely to the same measured height on each forearm. His eyes were fixed upon the apparatus that occupied the center table like it was a small mechanical altar.
Graves leaned back in a stool opposite him, letting her cheek rest on her palm for a moment as she watched the crystalline coil at the heart of their project glow with its own version of pride.
“If it explodes,” Graves observed in a tone both idle and faintly entertained, “you will be the one explaining it to the faculty. You’ll have to get into your role.”
Apollo’s tail flicked behind him, knocking lightly against a cabinet.
“Oh, you wouldn’t dare,” he replied, adjusting a copper contact while trying to read her expression. “And it will not explode. I calibrated the resonance frequency twice. Your doubt is tedious.”
Their project was ambitious in a manner that skirted the edges of arrogance. Officially it was a theoretical model for the search of harmonious sounds. Unofficially, it was Apollo’s quiet attempt to trace the beauty of his memories with someone like Graves by his side. He had spoken of it a couple of times, confessing to the idea as if it was a sin, but never receiving neither disappointment nor laughter from his partner.
Now it pulsed softly, a lattice of quartz rods and silver filaments arranged in concentric symmetry at its sides. Graves reached forward and adjusted the data console.
“Well, it is stable,” she murmured. “But the harmonic amplitude is rising.”
Apollo’s mouth curved, estranged.
“It should.”
His progress was not merely about acclaim, though he would never dismiss the value of recognition. It was about proving that exile had not dulled him, the distance had not diminished his worth.
The machine responded to his adjustments with a low thrumming sound. For a moment the lights overhead turned, and then died. Graves straightened, finally letting her face sharpen.
“Apollo,” with no teasing in her voice.
The crystal at the center brightened, its glow deepened from pale gold to a pure light. Fine threads of light traced the silver filaments, racing outward in delicate veins. The hum intensified, as if it were shaking bones.
Apollo’s eyes widened in exhilaration.
“It is synchronizing faster than predicted,” he breathed. “Remarkable.”
“Is remarkable the word you want to use right now?” Graves asked.
Before Apollo could respond, a sharp crack fractured the air. One of the quartz rods splintered, scattering shards across the table. A surge of luminous energy leapt outward in a bright arc, striking a secondary power conduit. The overhead lights died at once, plunging the room into a darkness pierced only by the furious glow of the destabilizing core.
Graves moved without hesitation, seizing Apollo’s wrist and pulling him back as another rod burst. The scent of ozone flooded the room, being the bow to close the scene as reality, Apollo struggled against the grip, stubbornly refusing to retreat.
“Release me. I can contain it.”
“You can’t do nothing if you are electrocuted,” Graves replied, dragging him toward the emergency cutoff panel mounted beside the door.
The stabilizer emitted a final, resonant tone, strangely pure, then discharged its remaining power in a blinding flash. Only silence was present by the end. For several heartbeats, they made sure of that. The darkness was complete save for the faint red glow of a backup indicator near the ceiling. Somewhere down the corridor an alarm chirped once, then fell quiet. The song of the building’s systems had ceased.
Graves exhaled slowly, careful not to trigger another reaction, but Apollo pulled his wrist free, inspecting the wreckage with a rigid expression that did not quite conceal the tremor beneath it.
“The resonance exceeded projected thresholds,” he said stiffly. “The fuel you added was insufficient.”
“The fuel I added,” Graves repeated, incredulous.
“If you had stabilized the auxiliary coil with greater care, the feedback would have remained within tolerable limits.”
Graves stared at him, then laughed softly despite the circumstances.
“You are unbelievable.”
But words couldn’t change the currents of the air as the faint emergency lights flickered to life along the floor, revealing the scattered debris and scorched metal. The reality of their predicament was presented to them.
“We cannot leave it like this. If the faculty sees the lab in this state tomorrow, we will not merely lose points. We will be fortunate to not get expelled,” Graves pointed out.
Apollo’s shoulders squared, pushing him a step back.
“Then we’ll restore it. We will fix our project and clean the mess before anyone notices.”
He regained the spark in his eyes, exchanging his concerns for resolution. He retrieved a pair of insulated gloves from a cabinet and began gathering the shattered quartz with meticulous care. Graves joined him without further comment, sweeping glass into a containment tray. They worked in near silence, making the only sounds be the faint scrape of glass against metal and the distant whisper of old material being crushed. Apollo’s earlier arrogance had softened into a focused state, earnestly calming his heartbeat.
“You know,” Graves said after some time, crouched beside the damaged console, “most students would call it a night and invent an excuse.”
Apollo didn’t look at her, but he scoffed at her words and responded with an even more pronounced accent.
“Most students are satisfied with mediocrity. And you were right… We couldn’t just leave. Even if we fixed the project at home, we would still have a mess behind us. Ixia does not produce mediocrity, let alone slackers. Not being there does not absolve me,” he replied automatically.
Graves raised her head to look at him for a moment, noting the tension threaded through his posture, but instead of speaking, she allowed him to have the last word.
They replaced the shattered rods with spares from storage, recalibrated the power conduit, and reset the console. The stabilizer stood again in rough semblance of its former elegance, though the original crystal now bore a faint crack across its surface like a scar.
By the time they finished, the clock mounted above the whiteboard indicated well past midnight. The emergency lights continued to glow faintly, but they seemed as tired as the young students. The red digits glowed with an indifferent steadiness that made their own fatigue feel theatrical by comparison. Outside the laboratory windows the violet that appeared before the disaster had deepened into a navy so rich it seemed almost tangible, pressing the velvet against the panes. The campus beyond was now deeply hushed by the power of the night, who emptied every classroom and hallway of any trace of commotion. The academy, which only that morning had been a loud and joyful space, now appeared solemn and withdrawn.
Graves flexed her fingers and rolled her shoulders, working out the stiffness that had gathered on her back. Fine dust from the shattered material still clung to her sleeves, catching the dim light in a faint shimmer. She glanced toward the corridor, then back at Apollo, who was inspecting a cracked piece of metal with an intensity that bothered his companion. His reflection in the darkened window looked older and prouder with its imitation of his concentrated tilt of chin, but in reality, that characteristic gesture was softened by exhaustion. His tail shook slowly, forming arcs that resembled the structures he just fixed. When he finally finished the last detail, he sighed, content. He stretched his body as he looked around, analyzing the spotless floor and the tired expression of Graves, who waited for him in an old chair as she looked at the ceiling. Their eyes met, being the signal they needed to understand that they could leave. They let their bodies collide, walking closely to the exit of the laboratory and to the entrance. For some reason, it felt as if not even the air could pass through the windows in the halls. Everything was tightly closed, giving it a look of tense precision. They could have sworn that it was a signal, but they weren’t brave enough to make such a comment in front of the other.
They stepped into the last corridor together, being bathed by the strong pull from the emergency lights that rested in the base of the walls. They somehow noticed how the air was cooler there, probably because of the long space and its unoccupied surface. Graves led the way toward the main stairwell, her steps were light, but filled with uncertainty. Of course, it wasn’t the silence that frightened her, it actually invited her to a reflection, which was way worse in their situation.
When they reached for the door, they pulled with normalcy, like the clock couldn’t notice the irregularities in their schedule. But the door resisted them instead of accepting without question. Apollo pressed the handle down firmly, then applied more force. His jaw tightened deeply before he let out a long sigh that carried an obvious observation: the metal did not yield. A small red indicator above the frame blinked with severity. Graves jogged to the exit at the end of the hall, only to find herself in the same situation. They tried with the side entrance near the science wing. Each was sealed with the same impersonal resolve.
She turned back to him, raising an eyebrow.
“Well...”
His eyes flashed at the word, quickly shaking in disbelief.
“Don't start.”
“You wanted to exceed and not be like everyone else, right?” She said with a short smile. “This is one of the consequences that come with your brilliance.”
He folded his arms, forcing his brows down as he thought of an escape from both the institution and the conversation .
“We are temporarily inconvenienced.”
“That is an optimistic phrasing.”
“It’s an accurate one.”
She studied their possibilities for a moment, retreating from her strict position once she saw the faint pallor beneath his composure. Now that they were no longer occupied with repairs, the cold could freely touch their shoulders, making them lose concentration.
The prince gathered air in a breath, straightening his body with doubt.
“We should check the infirmary,” he said. “We can stay there until dawn, then, they’ll restore access to the doors.”
Graves nodded, preparing her step so she wouldn't drag her feet.
“I was thinking the same thing.”
They walked side by side down the dim hallway, not worrying about the echo formed by their footsteps in the hollowed quiet. Apollo’s fingers brushed against her wrist, almost absentmindedly calling for her attention. And though it worked, she only let her lips rise, never commenting on the gesture or the warmth it gave her.
The infirmary welcomed them, but always carrying its odd smell of sterile neatness that felt oddly intimate and meddler in the absence of witnesses. The small windows and narrow beds were hidden by white curtains that hung motionless around them, angelically keeping the peace of the room in divided yet equal spaces. There were cabinets lined on one wall, their doors reflected the humble stars in its attempt to be of use.
Graves closed the door behind them and listened, out of habit, for any sound beyond their own breathing. She stared at Apollo for a second, who surveyed the room with a strategist’s gaze, almost making it comical without intending to.
“We will conserve our energy,” he declared. “The most efficient option is to stay.”
He moved toward one of the beds and pressed his palm against the mattress. It gave slightly beneath his touch, but not enough to call it comfortable. Graves opened one of the doors from the cabinet and withdrew two folded blankets that were thin but serviceable. She tossed one toward him, not giving him enough time to catch it with grace.
“Are you cold? You’re trembling,” she observed.
“I am not,” he replied quickly.
She stepped closer, studying his face. His ears were moving faintly with each step, whether from irritation or temperature she could not tell.
“Well, I can feel it from here. So your body disagrees.”
Apollo hesitated, then looked away.
“It is irrelevant.”
Graves spread her blanket over the adjacent bed and sat down, testing its stability. The metal frame creaked softly.
“We can share,” she said, as if they were still discussing the usage of their equipment in the laboratory rather than offering a holy amount of proximity. “It’s more practical than having you trembling under your sheets.”
His tail flicked in agitation, responding to the idea before him. He stood and looked around for a long moment, drowning in the sound of his heartbeat and his blushing pride. Finally, with an exaggerated exhale, Apollo dragged his bed nearer to hers until the frames touched with a scrape. He lay down stiffly, facing the ceiling.
Graves slipped beneath her blanket, then after a pause lifted its edge in silent invitation, trying to layer both so they could shield them more effectively from the cold. Apollo turned his head slowly, regarding her as though she had proposed an outrageous act.
“For warmth,” she said.
“Of course. For warmth,” he repeated with a nervous whisper, stumbling at every word.
He moved closer. The mattress dipped beneath their combined weight, making their shoulders brush. The contact sent a small signal through his body, telling him to retrieve before accidentally killing his poor heart. Graves felt it and pretended not to notice, adjusting the blanket higher around them both. The air was undeniably cold now, seeping through fabric and skin alike, so despite her efforts, they could still feel a certain tremble coming from the other.
Apollo kept resting rigidly, maintaining his arms at his sides. His tail curled tightly along his leg. Graves moved her feet forward, uncomfortably trying to avoid another touchful event.
“You know,” she murmured, trying to create a conversation that could change the pressure in the air, “I might end up writing something about this. If you don’t fall asleep, you’ll give me a bad impression.”
“I would refuse to read it, though I don’t think you can be disappointed in me,” he replied.
A faint shiver passed through him again when he finished speaking. Graves sighed softly and closed the remaining distance, sliding an arm around his waist. He stiffened and shook his head slightly. His lips parted repeatedly before he spoke in protest.
“What possessed you now?” He began.
“Nothing more annoying than you and your shivering,” she said, using a solemn tone that almost made her smile.
His tail, as if impatient with his hesitations, lifted and brushed tentatively against her hip. She felt its warmth and held still. After a second, it coiled more securely around her waist, drawing her closer. Apollo inhaled sharply, exasperated. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together in an expression that was draped in shame.
“It acts independently,” he muttered, doing his best to maintain a serious volume that could hide his lie.
“Of course it does.”
Gradually his rigidity eased. One hand, which had hovered uncertainly near her shoulder, settled there with a careful gentleness that contradicted his earlier bravado. Their knees aligned under the shared blanket, which trapped their combined warmth, and the chill retreated inch by inch.
Graves rested her forehead lightly against his collarbone. She could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feel the rise and fall of his breath, but her tired body couldn’t fight for her resilient image. It was comforting in a way she had not anticipated. For someone who claimed such superiority, he was astonishingly simple in moments like this. It was so beautiful that she resigned to his touch, even when she heard him scoff at her every move.
Suddenly, his fingers tightened slightly at her shoulder. For a heartbeat she thought he might retreat behind a strong armor again. Instead, he exhaled softly, letting silence consume them. His tail adjusted, caressing her slowly. She tilted her head upward, meeting his gaze. In the dark, his eyes shone like they were the only escape she could take.
He leaned down slightly, hesitating just long enough to betray his nerves, then brushed his lips against hers. He kissed her briefly, tentatively searching for her inner warmth. She responded kindly, sliding her hand from his shoulder to rest lightly against his chest. When they parted, their foreheads remained touching.
He wished to make a comment that could break the spell of their sweet embrace, but he couldn’t. Far away from home, and locked inside a cold infirmary, he found that kiss to be the most precious thing he could ever own. He drew her closer, abandoning the pretense of distance.
That infirmary became their sanctuary in a way. Outside, the night deepened without their notice, but inside, two stubborn students, brilliant and flawed and quietly devoted, allowed themselves a reprieve from expectation, because they had finally found a warmth that no locked door could diminish. And as sleep approached, it did so gently, wrapping them in a promise of eternal memory.