Good Enough For Love?

by Shpilks4513

Summary:

Sofia Gersten is the Editor-In-Chief of the campus newspaper at Miranda's All-Girls University. Bela Dimitrescu is the President of the Student Council. This pair has been longtime rivals, given the fact they're the only ones who can compete with the other in academics and extracurriculars. But what if, as chance slowly pushes them closer together, things could change? Change from mutual disdain and loathing to understanding, care, and maybe even love?

Notes:

The protagonist has enough traits to be an OC, also I hate writing "y/n", which is why they have a name I literally just randomly generated. But it’s still more or less meant as /reader as Sofia doesn't really have a huge backstory so it should be possible to /reader into. Honestly, reader/oc is self-insert, everything they do at their university, I do at mine, the first paragraph was based off a morning right before summer break. I always hated blatant self-insert, so sorry, but that's proof it’s all possible, at least. "You" and "Sofia" will probably both be used, I'll do my best to keep it concise. I'm going to primarily keep the name to conversation so it's easier to self-insert. If you think I should just commit to it being an OC, say something in the comments.

Chapter 1: First Encounter

It’s been a slow morning of Earl Grey and self-loathing in the newspaper club office at Miranda’s All-Girls University. The time is roughly noon according to the arguably functional clock. Editor-In-Chief Sofia Gersten has spent the last few hours editing/helping the staff, strategizing, arguing, sending emails, and setting up meetings. Sofia had arrived at 8, everyone else gets there at 10. Being the first one there is a sign of dominance as editor-in-chief that must be maintained even if no one else couldn't care less.

Sofia takes a long sip from her mug of tea, mentioned above, and begins to edit Ali’s article on one of the sports teams. Black God knows how boring sports are but editing the bullshit is just as much part of the job. As time goes by, the violent clicking of the keyboard becomes a sweet melody. This peaceful music goes uninterrupted for about an hour until, Daisy, an especially competent member of the newspaper staff, dashes in. “Editor! We’re so fucking cooked!” Immediately, you yell in response, “Oh, fuck me! Daisy, what happened, is this a Headmistress Miranda problem again or a general idiot problem?!” Daisy slows down and talks in an annoyed tone, “You remember that editorial you wrote criticizing the student council a few days ago? About that stupid budget plan they put out.” You nod, “Yeah, well, Bela Dimitrescu found it… and wants to talk to you about it. I think she wants it taken down from the website.” You groan loudly, your compatriot quickly joining in.

Bela Dimitrescu, Bela fucking Dimitrescu, President of the Student Council, she was insufferable. Bela and you had a history, arguing, death-staring, and disagreeing during any meeting you were both in. She was your only competition for valedictorian, she was the president of the student council, you were the editor-in-chief as well as chess team captain. In other words, you hated each other, after all, you were the only other academic and extracurricular competition left for the other.

“Of course she does. Why in the rhyme of the unholy fuck wouldn’t she?! When is she gonna be here?” Daisy looks back at you with an increasingly defeated look. “About that… she’s outside in the writer’s room.” “Right now?” “Right now.” As if to confirm the truth of her words, a violent bang is heard against the door. The reporter speaks pleadingly, “Can I just leave, I can’t deal with Bela right now. She’s kind of, well, terrifying.” You respond, completely resigned to the situation, “Yeah, go ahead, I get it. She’s such a fucking pain.” Daisy quickly dashes out of and then attempts to slam the door. This doesn’t work; President Dimitrescu, right outside, catches it immediately. Her reflexes are unsurprisingly razor sharp.

Within seconds, she's right in front of your desk, with murder in her eyes. Bela holds up a print of the article. After a brief death stare, her composure breaks, “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?! UNHINGED!!! YOU AND YOUR CRONIES CALL THE NEW BUDGET UN-FUCKING-HINGED! WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!” Immediately, without an ounce of doubt, Sofia gets defensive. “I’m the Editor-In-Chief, so I decide what we publish, meaning back the fuck off!” Bela's face immediately contorts with even more abject rage upon your response. She steps closer, hands on her hips. "Editing and publishing news is one thing, but attacking an entire student council's plans isn't something I'll abide. Especially the student council president's budget plan, which I worked very hard on, despite all the interference from the stupid year representatives!"

A smug smile tugs at the corner of her lips. "And, besides, I’m in charge! All you can do is react, sounds like somebody's just a sore loser to me." she responds.
You counter “Just because we didn’t exactly have a perfect counter-plan doesn’t make the Council’s any more coherent!” You try to change the subject while keeping a more and more exhilarating fight going, “What the fuck were you guys thinking with the theater budget anyway?! Somehow there's too much money for props and too little for costumes, SIMULTANEOUSLY!”
In that exact moment, Bela's smirk widened into a full-on smug grin. "Newsflash, sweetheart: my plan was solid. The theater! Cassandra! Needed the goddamn money, that table broke before opening night last year. And you know what?! Gisselle will be fucking fine! If you think it didn’t make sense, you’re even dumber than I thought! It's not my fault you couldn't come up with anything better!" Her tone was snarky, she was enjoying the verbal sparring match.
You could feel your cheeks flush further with a mix of irritation, embarrassment, and without realizing it, just maybe, something more at being called sweetheart by the domineering president. “Don’t you fucking dare call me sweetheart, Bela!” You can't help continue the train of thought in a whisper, but Bela is far too angry to hear it something said quietly, “S-seriously, don’t.” Council President Dimitrescu instinctively responds, “President Dimitrescu to you! Now take it the fuck down!”

As the two opponents stand in the room locked in a heated and intellectual battle of will, the two glare at each other with intense concentration. Editor-In-Chief Gersten, trying to get a rise out of her, responds, “Why’re you getting so worked up over one critical article, darling.” At this, Bela completely spins out of control. Respond to your blush with one of her own, needless to say, neither of you notice each other’s flushes in the heat of battle. In order to hide her change of face, she gets back into the fight: “It's not just some trash article: It's a goddamn insult to an institution, MY FUCKING INSTITUTION!!! You have no idea what it's like leading this group. They're like herding cats! And for what?! To have your sorry ass complain about it! I’m running the whole council, managing these idiots who have a shaky at best idea what they’re doing, WHILE, maintaining perfect grades!!! You have no fucking idea!”

You respond, with a sudden, completely unexpected, earnestness. “You definitely wouldn’t have realized because of your massive ego, but I do have some fucking idea! I complete have a fucking idea!” Bela responds with a surprised look, "Oh really? You? Really know the pressure of being perfect?" Bela scoffs "Because, for the record, I'm the one trying, and succeeding, to be valedictorian, president of the Student Council, and a full-time student. All of that at the same time. Do you think you do as much, as hard, and as good? Please!" “You better believe it, darling. I’m trying and succeeding to be perfect, dunno about you, though. I’m gonna be the valedictorian, whether you like it or not! Leadership, academics, I fuckin’ swear I beat you in both! Hands down.”

Bela snaps back, “Trust me, sweetheart, everything you just said is a delusion!” After the argumentative response, out of nowhere she begins to deflate, changing from anger to pure annoyance “That’s it! I can’t deal with this bullshit! You don’t understand, no one ever would! No one ever could!! So just fuck off! I’m leaving!” She pauses but quickly bounces back with authority in her voice, “But you better remember this “newsflash”, sister, if you don’t take that article down in three weeks I swear to god I’ll make a new budget that burns your funding to the ground!” With that Bela strolls out of the office. Sofia knows Bela’s wrong. That she doesn’t understand what it’s like. No one could. No one would.

After Bela leaves, you can't help but feel an unexpected pang of missing her, this feeling is as shocking as it is shameful. Your head sinks down onto the desk, trying to collect your jumbled thoughts, but your mind keeps drifting back to the encounter they just had with the president. You really did, for lack of a better word, miss her now that she was gone. It felt weirdly lonely in the office without her. Without the president's arrogant attitude, her smug smirk, her intense, commanding persona, her words, the little pieces of emotion it seemed only someone better than her could spot (In Sofia’s opinion), and the understanding of what the high-achiever, perfectionist, workaholic rat race she had that it seemed no one ever did before. It was a thought you shouldn't be having, a feeling you shouldn't be feeling. Sofia Gersten simply shakes her head.

Chapter 2: Coffee Shop Contemplation

Notes:

Hey, readers, first thank you so much for reading and for any kudos or comments. Second, going forward there’ll be the occasional perspective shift to Bela but primarily it’s reader’s POV. Third if Cassandra’s texting style is a pain to read, that’s the point because of her character. And again, thank you for reading, I'm shocked anyone read this, I appreciate it. Also, expect a tentative upload schedule of every two weeks.

Bela, Bela, Bela… Bela, Bela fucking Dimitrescu, it had been four days since your yelling match with the student council president and since then you’d been completely unable to stop thinking about her. Whether it was hearing about something she did, wondering if you had better grades than her, how pretty her hair was yesterday, or trying to decide if she won the argument through a complex point system. That motherfucker just wouldn’t get out of your thoughts. It had been, maybe, four hours now since you’d thought about her and how you didn’t fucking trust those sweet, gleaming, sapphire eyes of hers. Like a wolf, prowling the forest. But that had been gone, for a full four hours! Thank God!

Approaching the town coffee shop the only thing on your mind is work, journalism, corrections, chess, and writing on the whole. Now walking toward the counter currently being manned by the seemingly omnipotent Elena Lupu you notice the worst thing you could possibly notice. Bela, she’s sitting in the back. She’s looking out a window, as she sips on a quadruple shot black coffee. Now aware of her presence, you immediately dash up to the counter and turn your head from her to look at the barista. The barista, who you know is named Elena Lupu, gives you a dead-eyed look, seemingly amused by something you can’t seem to place. “Hey, Sofia…” She feigns a formal tone “or should I say great and powerful Editor-In-Chief. What would you like today?” You grumble at her small slight, giving her a category 3/10 death stare. “I’ll just take a black tea and a plain croissant.”

With a sly grin on her face, Elena replies, "Coming right up." She turns around, preparing your order while you rapidly turn your head. Your eyes, almost instinctively, darting to the back corner, where you noticed Bela sitting earlier. She's still seated, sipping her coffee, seemingly lost in thought as she looks out the window. The light filtering through the glass casts a soft glow on her face, highlighting her features, yet something’s different. There's an air of melancholy and loneliness around her, a contrast to her usual confident demeanor.

Looking at this, your expression dilates between a forlorn frown and a victorious grin five times before your face eventually lands on the forlorn frown. While, Bela is the enemy, which is why what seems to be genuine pain should be a strategic victory. But the problem with that is, looking at her face, you can’t help feel for her, more than anyone could ever understand. She seems completely alone in this world with nothing but a GPA over at that table. And fact of the matter, you’re just as alone. It feels like despite what you think is complete and absolute loathing for her… she feels the same pain. And if it is the same pain, it’s a horrible one, she must absolutely hate herself. For just one second you wish you could make it go away for her, your feelings never mattered, but maybe hers do.

But then you’re brought back to reality by three simple words: “Your order is ready!” You quickly spin around as you mutter fuck several times. Elena gives you a strange look as she holds out the drink and food, “Lost in thought?” “Yeah, yeah, just-just shut the flying fuck up about it!” You take the tea and croissant and speak again. “Sorry, thanks for the drink and food.” The barista responded, more amused than anything, “Don’t worry about it: people have said much worse things in this place.” Her amusement is more embarrassing than anything, if only you could have vengeance but unfortunately, she's beyond your jurisdiction. But this is irrelevant as you hide behind a stony expression and run out of the building.

PERSPECTIVE SWITCH TO BELA:

Bela's mood stays somber as she sits back, still a massive contrast to her usual ice-cold apathy or rage. If anyone besides Sofia Gersten noticed her like that, they’d be completely shocked. It’s a particularly long attack of loneliness that only seems to hit at the worst of times. Bela knows she’s climbed all the mountains and is proud. But it just, it just seems like even up at the peak, looking down on the mortals she’s still as alone and worthless as when she started. Having been in this disastrous mood for a few hours now and with nothing better to do she's taking refuge in her favorite coffee shop, her usual order sitting by her side, the coffee is the usual quadruple shot black, a vice born of the need for a strong kick on bad days. It had long since been jokingly nicknamed by her the “Dimitrescu Special.” But the only not shame and loneliness based thing that seems to occupy Bela's thoughts is the one and only Sofia Gersten. The arguments, the tension, the stupid fucking things she keeps saying and writing, how nice those bright, emerald eyes of hers look when the light gets them just right, and how much of a pain in the ass she was a few days ago. Those things pass by slowly. Bela's not really thinking about anything in particular, just mindlessly sipping on coffee.

As Bela sits there alone, the loneliness is almost stifling. It's been like that since she could remember, but it's become even more pronounced since the argument with you. The coffee, usually a comfort, today feels like bitter medicine. Bela's thoughts keep circling back to you, her rival, her enemy. Yet there's something more there, a connection, a tension, that Bela is struggling to understand. Her mind keeps playing over the arguments, the insults, the stubborn determination in those green eyes. Each memory is a sharp stab of both victory, a stab of loss, and strangely, an unexpected desire. For what? She can’t say for sure.

Suddenly, the Stuco President's solitude is broken by a sharp buzzing. It's a text from her younger sister, Cassandra. It reads, "Hi Bels the fuck are u doing?" It seems to have a playful yet incessant tint. Bela groans violently inwardly, not in a state to deal with Cassandra's bullshit. She replies, "I'm just at the cafe. Why? What do you want?" “Jus wanted to say thx 4 the xtra prop money gisele wil be fine with less costu.” The god-queen responds “Yeah, sure, go away.” This seems to be all, and an apathetic Bela starts to breath a sigh of relief when suddenly another texts pops up. “Hey belsie, can u finally tell m e wen you r going to get some bitches.”

Cassandra had been bothering Bela incessantly about when she’d get a girlfriend for months now, years, actually, ever since they were high schoolers. This is the first time Bela actually truly thought about it a little, after all, there had been a small change, Sofia Gersten being the change. She still despised her for the most part but those other feelings… I guess they kinda feel applicable to this. That scares Bela, so she gives a knee-jerk response. “Fuck off, there’s something but I’m not talking to you about this so go away.” Cassandra couldn’t take less time to respond “OOOOOOOOOOHOHOHOHOOHOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!! U GETTING HOES FINALLY????? TELL ME TELL ME TELL ME” The President Dimitrescu turns off her phone in response, ashamed of her response. She’ll deal with Cassie’s shit later.

 

BACK TO SOFIA’S POV

After walking back, Sofia sits alone in her dorm, sipping on her tea and nibbling on the tail end of her croissant, trying to concentrate on work, but her mind is elsewhere. She's not proud to be thinking about her rival's strange mood, but the image of Bela looking so vulnerable and melancholic won't leave her mind. She was still beautiful, highly intelligent, and she seemed like she understood. Understand what it’s like to have all the empirical and none of the emotional. You hate that those were all the admissions you’d made to yourself today. But another admission, the most important of all reared it's head, you might just want Student Council President Bela Dimitrescu, to most, the scariest woman alive, and to you, a mortal enemy, and a lovely one at that.

Chapter 3: "Project-ing"

Notes:

Hey, everyone, thank you for reading, here's an early chapter 3. No promises this will be the update schedule, again, most likely every two weeks. Please enjoy, and I'm paranoid I'm doing a horrible job so if you don't think it's bad, please say something.

Sofia and Bela both woke up the next morning alone, bored, and shamefully thinking about the other. Sofia and Bela’s feelings seemed more and more romantic today, a fact which both felt confused and ashamed of. Sofia had begun to realize from the coffee shop forward that she was attracted to Bela. Bela felt emotions she couldn’t quite place, after the texts between her and Cassandra she knew they were strong, and they were for Sofia.

Through the morning the pair both worked on various assignments for different classes, Sofia practicing some chess in between. Thoughts of each other never leaving the background fully though. But then, at eleven thirty both were forced into action, after all, the most advanced literature class on campus was in half an hour. A literature class they shared. Well, fuck…

 

SOFIA PERSPECTIVE

You and Bela walk into the classroom, as you take your seats, the tension between you remains palpable. You both sit at your respective desks on opposite sides of the room. Bela tries to look casual as she fidgets with the pen in front of her, a common habit of hers but with far greater intensity this time. Her mind still plagued by lingering memories of Cassandra’s text, and most importantly, their debate a few days ago. You, on the other hand, steal countless glances at Bela when you know she's not looking, both your thoughts a chaotic mess of confusion and curiosity.

After about 5 minutes of looking back and forth at Bela, the professor finally walked up to the front of the room. Then the professor begins her lecture. To put it simply, it lasts a handful of hours. You and Bela stare at her as you both take notes at lightning speed, A+s don’t form out of thin air. You love Dostoevsky, but my god, she just goes on and on and on and on and on and on. Also, for the love of fuck, her opinions on Crime and Punishment are ridiculous and when someone yelled that the “Underground Man” was an incel they got kicked out of the room. Bela sneered loudly as she left. Everyone who saw found it rude, you found it cute. She’s just an “Ivan Karamazov.”

Since the lecture started you’d robotically been listening and writing down every piece of information she said. But then something snapped you out of your trance. The professor is assigning a stupid fucking group project! A two person presentation on any book that had been assigned through the year! It was out of nowhere! And NO ONE COULD EVEN CHOOSE THEIR FUCKING PARTNERS! Oh god, you were gonna get an idiot, weren’t you?! Who the hell is it going to be?!

The first few pairings were called out. But then, like being hit by a bolt of lightning, your heart skipped a beat as you heard who you were going to be teamed up with: the one and the only, Bela Dimitrescu.

Bela, who up until that point had been completely focused on the lecture, was shocked by the announcement as well. This is the last thing she wanted! What if she realized Bela was feeling… things?! Working with Sofia on a presentation? It was as if fate just decided to play some sick joke on her. Bela couldn't help but let out a quiet groan of annoyance, swearing every swear in existence under her breath. Bela casts a quick glance over at you, noticing the mix of surprise, resignation, and contradictory excitement to spend time with her on your face. It seemed like you were just as shocked about the situation as she was. Bela Dimitrescu, President of the Student Council is just as pissed, resigned, and weirdly excited as you about the upcoming group project. Of course, both you and Bela did everything possible to hide the happiness from your mutual attraction, as the other still seemed like the enemy.

Meanwhile, the professor continued to call out the rest of the pairings, completely oblivious to the tension unfolding between you and Bela. As the last pairings are declared, Bela leans back in her seat, crossing her arms and then finally acknowledges you with a sideways glare that says: 'This better not be a disaster.' You returned her smirk with an arguably shit-eating grin that said, ‘Sure, if anyone’s gonna fuck this up it’s you.’

Bela can’t help but roll her eyes in response after reading the smirk on your face. She mutters to herself: “Of course this had to happen. Working on a project with the most insufferable, brilliant, and kinda beautiful person in existence. This is going to be such a nightmare…” Bela let out yet another sigh/groan. She mentally steels herself for the impending weeks of work with you. Every fiber of Bela’s being still screaming to protest, to make this go away, use every bit of influence she has to kill this project, to find a different partner by any means necessary. It’ll all go wrong, no matter what, she couldn’t help but think. But deep down, that small but powerful excitement and anticipation never left.

After the partner announcing and a little more lecturing, the class ends. Both Bela and Sofia pack their bags quickly and stand up with clear frustration and stress about this whole fucking thing. The President waits in the back at the entrance she knows you’ll take, pushing down that slight excitement in order to talk to you. You nearly get to just walk through the doorway but, out of nowhere, Bela signals you to talk in an area to the right. She then speaks, voice overwhelmingly sarcastic, “Well, it seems we’re stuck together on this thing, fucking fantastic.”

As she’s speaking, you shove your own positive feelings down even further in order to speak to her. Once they’re fully repressed, you counter. You respond, equally sarcastic, “Oh don’t sound so thrilled! You act like being paired with me is the worst thing possibly imaginable.” She teased and insulted you last time in the editor’s office, it’s time for round 2. “Well, isn’t it?! You’re the stubborn, obnoxious, and infuriating individual I’ve ever met!” Sorry if I’m not jumping for joy at the thought of engaging in-” She mock gags. “Teamwork. With you. Not to mention I know you won’t just shut up and let me take the lead like these other ass-clowns.” “I’m sure your whole plan for this thing is as deluded as the budget! And no way, sunshine! Of course I’m never gonna let you be in charge. If anything, you need to fucking listen to me!

Bela responds with an agitated tone: "Oh, because YOU have such brilliant ideas, right? Because you’re the one with all the wisdom and insight, huh? Do you actually listen to yourself?!" Her words are practically hissing, then again, so are yours. She is clearly struggling to keep her rage under control. "You don’t know the first thing about taking charge or leading a project. You have no idea what it takes to run a council let alone a team!" “What are you on about?! I’m the Editor-In-Fucking-Chief!” After this roughly even pair of tirades you begin to just death-stare her and she death-stares you, seemingly a game of chicken.

After a few moments of tense silence, Bela finally takes a deep breath, her face relaxing slightly, just trying to survive the project. "Fine, let's take a step back. We're both passionate and opinionated, the difference being I’m actually correct. And clearly, we're not going to agree on everything, mainly because you’re always fucking wrong. But for the sake of our grades, let’s just get this over with." You pause, surprised, her less aggressive words cause your powerful anticipation of her presence to resurface, and thus you play ball. "We do have to find a way to work together without murdering each other."

Bela nods in agreement. Her previous anger slowly giving way to resignation and well hidden joy on her face. "Fine. I can swallow my disgust long enough to get through this. But I'm telling you now, I'm not giving in on every single little thing. I have a vision, and you better get on board with it. If not, this project will fail, and we'll both have nobody to blame but ourselves, well, more like you." “You better believe I have a vision too, sweetheart, and I’m not going to let it go, but I guess we can work together on this.”

Chapter 4: A Complete Lack of Self-Control

It’s been begrudgingly and disconcertingly scheduled for 2 days, Editor-In-Chief Sofia Gersten and Stuco President Bela Dimitrescu are to meet in the library to work on their presentation today. They’d both been equally terrified and excited in the lead up. After all, pretend to hate each other they might, the pair is madly in love. They had been for some time now, their feelings only growing more intense the more they argued and the more they talked.

With all that in consideration, your heart was pounding as you wandered across the grounds towards the library. After passing a few more classrooms Sofia arrives at the library, pushing the large doors open and moving towards the arranged meeting place.

Bela, is waiting at the table in the corner they were set to work at. She’s been checking her watch, silver, her mother’s, twice per minute. Her heart is pounding with anxiety and anticipation. She nervously fidgets with her long blonde locks as she waits, her eyes fixed on the hallway, searching for any sign of you. She'd arrived at least 30 minutes early. Bela had been uncharacteristically jumpy all day, unable to focus on anything else except the fact that she'd be spending an entire day working on a project with you. You, her only equal, her love, her nemesis, her hate, her peace.

You, meanwhile, were on your way, navigating through the winding bookshelves and corridors of the campus library while trying desperately to calm down your nerves. You'd been just as, if not more, apprehensive as Bela about this project. You try to mentally prepare, to steel yourself for the tension that was sure to ensue. You can almost picture her smirk, the glint in her eye that drove you crazy. It was almost too much to bear. As you finally approached the table, you take a deep shaky breath and sit down.

Bela’s heart leaps within her typically cold chest as you take her seat and look her in the eyes. Bela quickly composes her face into her usual cold mask, a look of stern indifference. She tried hopelessly to ignore the fluttering in her stomach as she watched you approach. She wanted to appear nonchalant and unbothered, but in reality, she felt anything but. Bela had to fight the urge to lunge across the table and kiss you senseless, then again, so did you. Instead, she greets you with a cool, controlled voice. “You're late.” You check your own watch, that’s bullshit. It was arranged for 11, it’s 10:59. “Bullshit, ‘President Dimitrescu, I’m on time.” “You call being here at the scheduled time proper attendance, amateur.” Despite Bela's attempts at indifference, you can't help but pick up on the subtle signs of her nervousness. She's biting her lip and her eyes are a little wider than usual. You decide to push a bit, seeing an opportunity to tease her. "Well, Bela, seems like you're counting the seconds till I arrived. Is the glorious leader that desperate for my presence?" Bela's initial reaction is to scoff, but her cheeks flush a faint pink. You miss it for the time being, not even thinking it possible. "Don't flatter yourself," she responds with a huff. "I was just... keeping an eye on the time."

Her response serves only to fuel your building curiosity. Sofia, with a smirk on her face, leans back in her chair and decides to continue to prod. “Oh, really? So you just happened to be checking your wristwatch every few seconds, huh? Sounds like you were counting down the minutes until I got here.” Bela's attempts to keep her cool are beginning to unravel. She's gripping the edge of the table with white knuckles. She tries for a nonchalant tone but her voice carries a hint of strain, matched only by the very clear annoyance. “I was just... making sure we stayed on schedule. Like a responsible person… but you don’t have much experience with that, now do you?” You seethe with a similar hint of restrained affection.

You lean closer, a playful look in your eyes. “Well, well, if it isn't Mrs. Responsible. I suppose someone has to keep me in check, right? Otherwise, I might just run for, and win the Stuco Presidency.” Bela's cheeks grow even pinker as your proximity catches her off guard. She's struggling to maintain her cool mask, but the way you're looking at her is making it extremely difficult to focus. Bela manages to respond, her voice quivering just slightly. “I suppose that's true… You do have a habit of causing chaos wherever you go.” “I think you mean outdoing you wherever I end up.”

Bela takes a deep breath, composing herself and then changing the subject, “Fine, enough of the banter. We should get to work. Let's not waste our time here with useless banter and actually start on this damn thing. I don't want to drag this out any more than I have to.” Bela quickly opens her laptop and pulls a stack of books in front of her. You watch as she busies herself, clearly trying to focus on the task at hand. You lean back in your chair and smirk. “Can’t take the heat? Fine by me.” She chooses to ignore you and cracks open her laptop, opening the rough draft you’d both been editing when the other wasn’t looking until today.
Bela Dimitrescu can’t ignore anyone’s insult for long. Bela rolls her eyes at your remark, “Heat? From you?” She glances away from her screen for a moment to meet your gaze, a mix of annoyance and hidden affection on her face. “And I'll have you know, I can handle anything. I just have better things to do than waste my time exchanging witty repartee with someone as irritating as you.” She turns her attention back to her laptop, feigning indifference as her fingers hitting the keyboard produce a symphony of clicking. You quickly open your own computer, not about to be outdone and thus begins the work.

The work progresses as you both pour over your shared document. Bela diligently correctvs typos and grammatical errors, occasionally noting suggestions for rephrasing. She glances at you from time to time, studying the way you focus on the screen, her eyes drifting down to your hands as they dance over the keyboard. You, in turn, find yourself sneaking glances at Bela, taking in the way her brow furrows in concentration and how her hair cascades down her shoulders as she bends over the laptop. The tension between the two of you is palpable.

After a few hours, Bela has had enough. The subtle tension, the stolen glances, the unspoken desire growing between the two of you... Bela closes her laptop with a sharp snap, breaking the awkward silence in the room. "I need a break. I'm stepping outside for a few minutes. Don't follow me." She stands up abruptly, avoiding your gaze. She's trying to maintain her composure, but it's becoming increasingly difficult. She needs to get away for a moment, to clear her head, to try to regain her composure before she does something completely insane.

If she thought you weren’t going to follow her after something like that, she’d fucking lost it.

You can't help yourself, your curiosity and the need to be close to her is too great. As Bela walks away from the table, you quickly close your laptop and get up to follow her. You watch her retreating figure, and with a determined stride, you begin to walk after her. You're careful to keep a safe distance, not wanting to alert her to your presence, but you can't help but feel the tension between you growing with each step. Your heart races, all caution thrown to the wind, and you know that you can't let this moment go to waste. This is it. This is it. You’re going to go for it. It’s time, balls deep, go for it. There’s no other course of action. With each step, you feel the anticipation building within you. Bela strides with purpose towards a secluded garden near the library, determined to find a moment of solace. She finds a quiet patch of grass, sheltered by the shadows of the trees, and she collapses onto the grass, taking a long, shaky breath. It's only now that she lets her guard down and allows her emotions to surface. She sits there, eyes closed, trying to calm her racing thoughts. After all, she can’t let you know that she’s in love with you. Then, she hears the sound of footsteps, are those your shoes? And her eyes snap open, her body tenses. She looks up in surprise to see you standing there.

You speak awkwardly, “Hey, Bela, you alright?” “Yes, Sofia, I’m fine, now fuck off.” “No, I wouldn’t have followed you out here if I didn’t have a reason.” In her head, Bela is freaking out. This is the first time she’d even considered the idea that you might just feel the same about her as she does about you. “So! What do you want?” “To talk to you.” Bela responds sarcastically, “No! Who would’ve thought?” “Shut up, this is important.” Bela, for the first time in her life, listens, and lets you say what you want to say. “I feel things…” You take a very long pause, “For you, Bela.”

The normally completely calm and collected student council president’s heart melts. Before she can stop herself, she throws caution to the wind as well. “You-you do?!- What kind of feelings.” You sigh, “Romantic ones, you’re genuinely one of the most beautiful, brilliant, and lovely people I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Before she can stop herself, Bela responds. “You are too, you-you know, you have a really nice voice. It makes me feel like I’m good enough.” Sofia’s heart is a puddle, “I feel good enough when I’m with you too.” Bela snaps even more than before, “Let’s do this, darling, right-the-fuck-now!” “Alright, sweetheart, I’d want nothing more!”

You and Bela lunge in simultaneously, your lips meeting under the tree with an incomprehensible passion. She lets out a sweet gasp before air in between kisses, powerful eye contact never breaking. You pant in response, trying to amass enough air for round 2. “Don’t stop, Bela.” Yet again, you both dive at each other at the same time. You push yourself, her in tow, roughly against the tree. Her hands throw themselves over your neck, without a second thought. Bela gasps, “God, you're perfect.” “This is the first time anyone’s said that, I’ve believed it. You’re perfect, too, so-so perfect. Like those statues your mother lectures about.” The kiss continues, without thought, without worry, only filled by passion.

Chapter 5: Blanket Statements

Notes:

Note from auth: Sorry each chapter has a time skip: it just feels like none of this would happen quickly so it needs to take longer. Also, sorry this one is slightly shorter than the others

It’d been a week since the kiss, the kiss in which they may have achieved Nirvana; the pair have both completely avoided each other since. While they both craved the other completely, it just felt embarrassing and too risky to put themselves out there like that. Thus, they didn’t. (They finished the project by working on it from their dorms digitally.) Bela had thrown herself into her work, and so had Sofia. This had adverse affections on their health, but when hadn’t it.

BELA PERSPECTIVE TIME

It’s a stressful day for Bela. She's been studying all day long, non-stop, in her pursuit of perfection. Her eyes were beginning to water, her head ached more with every passing moment, and her hands ached from writing. However, in her mind, it was all worth it. Bela had an impeccable record to keep, and no amount of pain would make her stop now. Today’s nightmare is a hyper-advanced assignment for the AP Mandarin class she’s taking, and it's starting to get to her.

Bela slams her textbook shut in frustration, pushing it away. It slides across the desk and falls to the floor with a thump noise. She leans back in her chair, rubbing her head in annoyance. The words and characters were swimming around in her head, refusing to pull themselves together. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so frustrated. Bela glanced down at her watch, it was already 8:00P. M., she'd been at it for hours. She groaned, she wasn’t going to be able to finish this tonight. She was exhausted, she needed a break. And there was only one break option available, one that went by two names.

Giving up, that’s what a fucking break is DEFEAT. And Bela Dimitrescu can’t be defeated, no man or woman can. How could an assignment do it then?
Just falling on the floor and resting there.

She chooses both. The Student Council President slides onto the low-quality carpet and nuzzles herself into a ball as she begins to sob. The misery she’s wrapped in feels like a net. The people, mother, they’re heckling her. She chose Option 1 and that drives her state of consciousness further and further down. What if Sofia saw her like this too?! The woman she cared for, the one who’d made her feel better even briefly, would abandon her at this, wouldn’t she?

Bela continues to sob into the cheap carpet of the empty classroom, her body shaking slightly with every tear she cries. Her breathing is shaky and uneven, her mind overwhelmed by the weight of her emotions. She couldn't hold it all together anymore, not now, at least. She felt alone. She felt vulnerable. And most painfully of all, she was failing to comprehend this task. Bela's thoughts were chaotic, a swirling vortex of pain and despair. Then, just as Bela begins to give in to the darkness, the door opens.

It’s Sofia! Oh fuck!!! She’s going to realize how pathetic I am, isn’t she?! No, no, no, no, no. Bela weakly raises her hand, but then brings it back down. Sofia immediately runs out of the room: She did realize, she realized that Bela’s a pathetic failure.

SOFIA PERSPECTIVE

You are terrified. Your beloved Bela is hurting so badly and it’s maddening. Your mind is spinning, trying to think of something, anything to make Bela feel better. You know how it feels to be overwhelmed and hurting like this, and seeing the woman you love going through the same thing, is completely unbearable. You can see the distress etched on Bela's face, can almost feel the pain radiating off her in waves.

You realize you need to do something, something to show Bela that she's not alone and that you're here for her. The question "How can I help Bela?" echoes through your mind like a mantra. “There might be something in the nearby rooms” is the best your brain can muster. And just like that, you’re opening doors at random looking for something that’ll help. The first room is a lecture hall; nothing. The second room is a bathroom; no. The third room is an unknown professor’s office. The fourth is a storage closet for the medical department. This seems like the best chance of something good available. You can’t get Bela cracked out but there might at least be tissues for her teary eyes.

It’s a success, thank god. There’s a medical blanket, and pillow. You throw it under your arm and make a run back to the Stuco President of your dreams. You return to the room at an almost unbelievable speed. You see Bela still lying on and crying against the shitty carpet. Immediately, you throw the blanket over and shove the pillow under a barely aware-of-anything Bela. You lean further down and whisper to her: “You’ll be alright, sweetheart.” Then you run as fast as is physically possible out of the room and down the hallway, completely embarrassed at everything you just did. Bela blinks slowly, taking in the sudden relative softness of the blanket and the pillow's plushness now under her head. The unexpected contact and comfort leaves her in a state of stunned surprise, the warmth and weight of the blanket wrapping around her body. Bela's tears slow to a stop, her breathing becoming steadier. She feels… cared for, cared for in a way she’d only felt before with Sofia. It stirs up a maelstrom of confusing emotions within her. The sound of Sofia's whispered words echo in her mind like a sweet, bittersweet, song. "You'll be alright, sweetheart...", and then she's gone.

You are running away from the classroom Bela’s resting in, trying to get as far away as you can from your embarrassment at the show of emotion. You've just done something very foolish, something almost instinctual. You threw a blanket over Bela and put a pillow under her head! Then, to add insult to injury, you whispered words of comfort into her ear before disappearing at the speed of light! Oh, you must seem like a complete idiot to her now. She must already regret the kiss and now you did something just as crazy. You keep running down the hallway, your mind racing with a mix of embarrassment and confusion.

You finally come to a gasping stop, leaning against a nearby wall with your hands on your knees. You try to catch your breath, trying desperately to calm your hammering heartbeat. The memories of what you just did are still fresh in your mind, and you can't help but feel utterly humiliated. But then, there's another feeling there, beneath the embarrassment. It's a feeling of relief, a strange sense of rightness. Yes, you had done something crazy, but it was for Bela. And for some strange reason, it had felt incredibly natural to comfort her at that moment. Being with her, helping her, giving her love, it all just felt… right.

Chapter 6: Broken Together

Notes:

Five things, one, sorry this took a while, but to be fair I did say the upload schedule would probably be every 2 weeks. Two, thank you so much for reading, I'm shocked how much attention this has gotten. Three, I know some of this might seem exaggerated but the things they feel in the chapter are genuinely problems I have regularly. Again, I'm ashamed to say Sofia is a self-insert. Four, I edited this chapter to make it make more sense. Five, there are mentions of self-harm, so warning for that. Although it is for pure hurt/comfort purposes. Again, thank you so much for reading, and without further ado...

The morning after Bela’s breakdown, you sit alone in your dorm room, the sunlight streaming through the window. You’re staring at your phone, scrolling through social media to distract herself from the events of yesterday. Every time you think about what you did — rushing in, covering Bela with a blanket, whispering to her like some lovesick puppy — your stomach flips between warmth, unimaginable love, and mortification. It’s just like the kiss, heavenly, life-changing, perfect, but still so surreal that it even happened. You can’t regret it less, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t shocked you actually did it.

Anyways, time to check on your grades. Might as well get a brief ego kick to stabilize.

 

87%?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?... JUST A SIMPLETON’S B+, ON A CALCULUS TEST! WHAT THE FUCK?! STUPID!... No, no, oh no no no, “GOD DAMNIT!” You’re alone in your room so you can enjoy the sweet pleasures of yelling. What if everyone heard about ‘how stupid Sofia is for this!’ No! No! No!

Your heart drops as you continue to look at the number in disbelief. Just an 87%?! You can't fucking believe it. You'd expected an A as always. But a B instead?! Your mind races with a mixture of anger and disappointment. You slam the phone down on the desk, letting out a frustrated yell. "NO! A B+ in Calculus?! How the hell is this possible?" But just as your emotions are surging, the thought of Bela comes into your mind, and a different kind of fear grips your heart.

"What if Bela finds out? She's going to think I'm an idiot. After everything we've been through, she'll see this and realize that I'm not the brilliant equal she thought I was. That... that maybe she made a mistake with me." The fear begins to spiral, your breath growing shallow as panic starts to take hold. You try to calm down, but it's no use. Your hands are trembling now.

You reach for your desk drawer muscle memory kicks in… anything sharp, anything that’d easily drag up and down your arm, would help make the pain outside match what’s screaming inside, the self-loathing, the terror, the shame, fucking all of it.

The razor is in your hand but right before it opens a gash in your arm, you stop. You remember Bela’s face, fragile on the floor, lonely, hating herself, just like you are now. Thinking of her, her sweet, pained, beautiful visage, it makes something shift. And instead of opening your arm, you grab your phone and open messages, to prepare a message destined for Bela Dimitrescu. Bela’s face flashes in your mind again. Not the strong, sarcastic president, but the one curled on the floor, broken and trembling… just like me.

You swallow hard, your throat tight with unshed tears. She needed comfort yesterday… and you showed up without thinking. You showed because you loved her. You loved the mean, sarcastic, but in reality beautiful, in reality brilliant, and in reality perfect Stuco President. Maybe… maybe you don’t have to do this alone either.

You type slowly at first: "I saw my calc grade today." A pause. Your breath hitches, then: "It was an 87%. A B+ I know that sounds stupid to care about. But it doesn’t seem stupid to me. I almost... did something I shouldn’t have. But I thought of you, on that floor."_Another long pause as your thumb hovers over send. Then finally, quietly desperate, you add: _"Are you okay?"_ And before shame can stop you… you hit send on the paragraph beyond the simple “I saw my calc grade today.”

BELA PERSPECTIVE:

On the receiving end of the message, Bela is deep in focus while studying. But the familiar buzz of her phone jolts her out of the flow. It's a message from you. She picks up her phone, curious, excited, and lovesick about what you might have to say. Then, she reads the words on the screen, and her heart skips a beat. "I saw my calc grade today... It was an 87%. A B+ I know that sounds stupid to care about. But it doesn't seem stupid to me. I almost... did something I shouldn't have." Bela is possibly the only person on campus who’d think that an 87% was a problem so she does understand. She understands so much, she, in terrified concern, is almost certain by what “I almost did something I problem shouldn’t have” means.

Bela reads the words on her phone over and over again. Her heart aches for you in a way that she can't quite explain, after all, she’s been in the same position. There's a deep understanding, a connection that goes beyond words. The fact that you're hurting, struggling with your own insecurities, only makes her care for you even more. She wants to comfort you, just as you had comforted her yesterday. With shaky fingers, she types a response, “Fuck off”, but before she can send it; she deletes it and types something new: "Don't call yourself stupid for caring. Your feelings are valid. But please, don't do anything drastic. Can we meet? Please."

SOFIA PERSPECTIVE:

You quickly grab onto Bela’s response, grateful and full of love for her at the comforting response you’d seen as at least pretty unlikely. “Yes, I’d really love that.” Bela receives your reply and feels a flood of relief wash over her. She reads the words over and over again, feeling the weight of your pain and understanding in her heart. It's a moment of true connection between the both of you, a moment where words feel inadequate to express the depth of care, pain, love, and understanding, but it's enough for now. Bela types back, "Meet me at the park on the east side in 10" “Sure” you respond.

10 minutes later, you stand in the east-side park of campus. You can see Bela sitting on a bench under an old oak tree. Her usual cold mask is gone, replaced with a look of genuine concern and care. As you approach her, she looks up at you with soft eyes no one else would believe she had seem to say “I understand.” You sit down beside her, not knowing what to say or do next. Bela reaches over and takes your hand in hers. It's a small gesture, but it speaks volumes: Volumes of concern, and maybe, hopefully, of love. "You're not stupid," she says softly, squeezing your hand gently. "And you're definitely not alone. We may be broken, but at least we can be the same kind of broken, together." For the first time in what feels like forever — maybe ever — Sofia Gersten lets herself believe it might be true.

"I thought the same thing yesterday," Bela says, her voice barely above a whisper. "When I was on that floor... I wanted it to stop so badly. But then you came in, with your stupid blanket and your even stupider voice telling me I’d be alright. And for some reason..." She pauses, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite the weight of what she's saying. "...I believed you."

You stare at her, heart pounding as the truth sinks in — Bela had been just as close to breaking completely as you were tonight. She turns to face you fully now, thumb brushing over your knuckles like she’s afraid you’ll vanish. "I didn’t know people like us could care for each other,” she admits. “People who hurt themselves when no one’s looking… who think they’re worthless if they don’t get an A… who scream inside but laugh outside.” Her breath catches. “But maybe… we’re not meant to fix each other right now.” Another beat passes — soft wind through leaves, distant campus laughter fading into silence. “Maybe, right now, we're just going to have to be broken, together.”

“I’d physically want nothing more than that, Bela. You remember when we kissed? You wanna do that again?” Bela responds quickly “Holy fuck, yes.”

Chapter 7: Doctorates In Cuddling

You look into Bela’s eyes, your heart pounding as the moment stretches between you, warm, fragile, electric. The world fades. It’s just her hand in yours, the soft feeling of her thumb over your knuckles, and the weight of everything just said hanging in the air like smoke. “I’d physically want nothing more than that,” you whisper, your voice raw with something deeper than desire: need, need for care, for support, and for love. She answers with a breathless, “Holy fuck, yes.”

And then she kisses you, slow, passionate, careful. Like she’s afraid you might break if she presses too hard. You kiss her back like salvation from any problem is in her lips. The kiss deepens, not rushed or desperate but full of something quiet, complex, and, forgive a rom-commy phrase, magical, unfolding between shared breaths and trembling hands sliding into hair. When it finally breaks apart for air, Bela leans her forehead against yours, eyes closed tight, almost memorizing your face by touch alone.

You both stay like that for a couple of moments, just breathing each other in, the world around you quiet now except for the distant hum of people far away and the whisper of the Autumn wind. (It’s Autumn like irl now, don’t ask questions lol.) Bela pulls back just enough to look you in the eye, her own filled with something soft and hopeful. "Can we... Can we just stay here like this for a while?" she murmurs, thumb gently tracing the contour of your cheek. You nod and mutter contentedly, “Yeah, ‘course, sweetheart.” And thus you continue to kiss by the tree for about another hour and a half just savoring each other’s presence and each other’s love.

By the time you’re done, it’s not even morning anymore, probably just after noon. After this long, you decide to speak up on what to do next. “Hey” you whisper softly, looking into her sapphire-like eyes, your head still resting against hers. She opens her eyes gradually, her hands still gently in your hair. “Hm?” she returns, the ghost of a smile appearing on her lips. She brushes some hair out of your face, her touch gentle. “You know it's noon, right?” Bela chuckles, a rare sound from her. A sound most people would think is impossible and a sound that you savor. “We've been making out for most of the morning. I didn't realize time could pass that quickly.”

You smile softly, feeling that unfamiliar sense of contented happiness continue to spread through you. "I didn't notice either," you admit, your eyes locked with hers. You reach up and touch her cheek lightly, tracing the line of her jaw with your fingers. "But I'm glad we spent it this way." Bela leans into your touch, her expression softening. "Me too," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "We should probably go though." “Yeah, should we go to my dorm or your I imagine palatial apartment.” “Shut the fuck up, we can just go to your dorm.” “Alright, follow me.”
You and Bela walk to your dorm side by side, your arms brushing against each other softly, your hands occasionally running over the other’s, and your cheeks often flaring with a blush. You don’t say anything as you walk, the conversation not needed, just your presence next to each other is enough. The walk isn't very long, and soon enough you’re both sitting down on your small bed, just enjoying each other's company in peaceful silence, this kind of silence being a lifelong rarity for the both of you.

Bela lies her head back on the pillow calmly, and you follow her lead with a mischievous grin and lay your head onto her shoulder. Bela freezes at the unexpected contact but soon falls apart into it. You feel her body relax into your touch. You almost unconsciously wrap your arm around her waist and pull her tightly to you, your bodies molded together like puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly. Bela sighs softly at the contact and throws her arm around you in turn.

"You're surprisingly good at this cuddling thing." As she says it she realizes that yes, that’s exactly what she’s doing, cuddling with her former arch-rival, now seemingly lover. "I know, I’m just the best at everything, you know I hear my A+ in cuddling is better than your A in it?" you tease, feeling both your and her heartbeat pick up at the intimacy of the moment. Bela huffs softly, her breath is warm against your neck. With anyone else Bela would be screaming at them for daring to challenge her abilities but not you. With you, Bela responds to with a huff. She then holds you tighter, with more affection, running a hand through your hair, your heart rate speeding up at her proximity. "Are you sure about that?" she asks, a hint of a challenge in her voice, but her tone is gentle and teasing, not sharp or biting. "My cuddling skills are far superior to anyone else's, especially yours."

You snap back with a slight giggle and mock anger, “How dare you insult my cuddling abilities?!”Bela rolls her eyes, still smiling, and retorts, "Please, you're just jealous of how great I am at it." You scoff in mock indignation and press closer into her in defiance, "Jealous? Of you, sweetheart? You must know that I could out-cuddle you any day of the week. That’s just a fact." Bela laughs softly, leaning into you and returning the pressure. "Oh really? I would love to see you try." You raise an eyebrow and smirk, "Challenge accepted."

Bela grins at your response, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She tightens her arm around you, drawing you closer. "You're on, darling. I hope you're prepared for defeat.” You grin back at her, matching her playful tone. "Oh, I'm more than prepared, sweetheart. You have no idea what I'm capable of in a cuddle battle. “Think what you want, but like I said before, I can out-cuddle you any day of the week.”

You both continue to banter playfully, each trying to one-up the other with increasingly ridiculous claims about your cuddling prowess. But slowly, as the warmth of each other's bodies and the comfort of having someone who understands you seeps in, your voices start to soften. Your breathing begins to slow and synchronize. The playful teasing fades into quiet murmurs, half-formed thoughts about how nice this feels, how safe. Somewhere between Bela whispering “...you’re really warm…” and you mumbling “...so are you… don’t let go…”

Your words trail off completely. Eyelids grow heavy. Limbs relax fully into one another’s embrace. The tension of perfectionism, self-hatred, panic, it all melts away under a blanket of silent love. And just like that, without either realizing it, you both fall asleep in each other’s arms: tangled together on a too-small dorm bed bathed in golden afternoon light… breathing softly as two people holding onto each other tightly enough to attain a level of peace they before thought of as impossible.

Chapter 8: 20 More Minutes!

Notes:

Thank you to anyone who for some reason reads this for helping it reach 250 hits and 10k words, enjoy.

The golden morning light filters through the thin dorm curtains, casting soft patterns across the bed where you and Bela are still tangled together. You wake up slowly, your body feeling more rested than it has in months, maybe even years. There's a warmth pressed against you, steady breath ghosting your neck, arms wrapped loosely around your waist. For a brief moment, you forget everything, the pressure, the panic attacks over grades, the razor in your drawer, and just exist in this quiet peace.

You shift slightly and open your eyes to find Bela already awake, watching you with an unreadable expression. Her sapphire eyes are softer than usual, her usually sharp features relaxed in sleepiness. She doesn’t say anything at first, she just studies you, like she’s memorizing every last detail.

Your heart flutters beneath her gaze, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. The world feels more real, more solid, as she watches you. She looks different in the morning light, her sharp features softened by the soft yellow of the sunrise through the dorm-room window. Her hair messy and tangled, her lips quirked in the barest hint of a smile. After a moment, Bela speaks, her voice rough with sleep, "Good morning, darling." You quickly respond, voice full of warmth, “Good morning, sweetheart.” Bela smiles.

You both lie there for a moment, wrapped in the quiet warmth of the morning. The kind of silence that doesn’t need filling—just shared. Then Bela stirs, shifting slightly to face you more fully. “You know,” she murmurs, her voice still sleepy but laced with something tender, “I haven’t slept that well in… I don’t even remember how long. You smile faintly, brushing a loose strand of hair from her forehead. “Same. I didn’t dream at all, no panic, no failure spirals… just you, the inferior cuddler.”

Bela’s breath hitches just slightly at your words. She looks down for a second, a rare flicker of vulnerability, before meeting your eyes again. “Do you think… we could do this again sometime.” “I’d really like that.” Bela looks at you with pure joy in her eyes for a few minutes, with you returning the favor. “What time is it?” the student council president can’t help but ask eventually. You pick up your phone to check. “8:52A.M.” “Dammit, I have a meeting with Miranda(er) at 10…” “Then we’ve got time,” you say softly, brushing your fingers along her jaw. “We don’t have to move yet.”

Bela lets out a small, reluctant sigh. “We’re dangerous to each other, you know that?” She gestures vaguely between the two of you, tangled in each other on the bed. Bela continues “We’re supposed to be, and have been, efficient, cold, queens of emotional repression.” You smirk sleepily. “I know, what do you think we are now?” “I think we’re compromised, but you know what? I really don’t mind.” “I don’t think I mind, either.” “Good.” Bela pauses a while before speaking with deep reluctance, “God, I have to go to that stupid fucking meeting soon, don’t it? No! 20 more minutes. Yeah, that makes sense, 20 more minutes.” She repeats it to herself like a mantra. Like a plank of driftwood, keeping her afloat on the sea that is her working life. You chuckle softly, nestling closer into her. “Twenty more minutes,” you echo, wrapping your arm tighter around her waist like you can physically hold time in place. “We’ll just… pretend the world doesn’t exist for twenty more minutes.” Bela lets out a contented hum and rests her forehead against yours. “Deal,” she whispers.

Neither of you like it but due to the linear nature of time soon enough Bela must go, and you probably should be at the newspaper room by now. But there is one difference from all the times you’ve stepped out into the unknown. This time you’ll be coming back to each other, and this time you and Bela, your sweetheart, and you, her darling, kiss each other on the cheek by the door.

You walk through the halls of the campus, humming to yourself and feeling better than you have in forever. What could you say? It feels really god-damn good just to know that she's yours, even if no one else knows about it. Maybe it's better to have this time alone first before anyone else has to get involved. As you head to the newspaper room, thoughts of Bela fill your head, thoughts of her smile, her laugh, the feel of her in your arms, you in her arms…

As you step into the journalism room, you're greeted by the familiar faces of your teammates, your friends, and the familiar hum of the printers. Everyone's busy at their respective desks, either typing up articles or tinkering with cameras and equipment in general. It's a quiet morning as you take your spot at the biggest desk (that’s yours purely out of vanity) beside the table and set up your laptop. You can feel everyone looking at you, though. Some of them are giving you friendly smiles. Some of them are giving looks that linger a bit too long. You stand to greet everyone, you haven’t been in the office in 2 days and that’s a long time for you, even if you kept up online.

“Good morning everyone, I’ve seen all the articles you’ve emailed me for editing and so far it’s top shit. I’ll call a few people whose article need major revision to the desk , but again, otherwise, we’ve kept on putting out strong stuff despite my only being here by email for a couple of days.” You do Churchill’s V signal, knowing both meanings perfectly well.

As you sit back down, one of your reporters, Lena, sharp-eyed and observant, leans over with a smirk. "You're weirdly... glowy today. Like, suspiciously happy. Did something happen? Or someone?” You glance up from your laptop, feigning innocence as you adjust your glasses. "I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about, Lena.” “No way,” Lena fires back, grinning now. “You’ve been MIA for two days, and now you walk in here looking like you won the lottery? C’mon. Spill.” “Maybe I just slept well for the first time ever?” “I guess that’d make sense.” You seem to have her fooled, but her expression remains suspicious, “Fine! I’ll be back later, though, there’s something you’re not telling me.

SWITCH TO BELA’S PERSPECTIVE:

Bela arrives at the Stuco building and heads into the meeting room, settling into her usual spot at the conference table. Her mind is still whirling from the morning spent curled up with you in your bed, and it takes an effort to focus on her surroundings. But years of school politics have trained her well, and her face remains a cool mask of professionalism as she pulls out her notes, ready to tackle the tasks at hand. After 2 full run-throughs of the notes is when Headmistress Miranda decides to make her entrance. Everyone stands as the headmistress makes her entrance, Bela included. Her expression remains unreadable as Miranda makes her way to the table, taking her seat with an air of authority.

"Good morning, ladies," Miranda begins, her eyes scanning across the room. "I trust you all have familiarized yourself with the items on today's agenda?" A chorus of affirmative responses fills the room, and Bela's voice is among them. "Good. Let's begin."