Chapter Text
It happens on a night neither of them planned to stay late.
The library is closing in ten minutes, lights dimming one row at a time. Alex is packing up with her usual efficiency when she notices Maggie hasn’t moved.
She’s staring at her laptop screen like it’s written in a foreign language.
“Maggie?” Alex asks quietly.
No response.
Alex hesitates, then reaches out and taps the table. “Hey.”
Maggie blinks hard, like she’s surfacing from underwater. “Sorry. Yeah. I’m good.”
Alex knows that tone.
She closes her laptop slowly. “You’re not.”
Maggie exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair. “I said I’m fine.”
Alex pauses. Chooses her words carefully. “You don’t have to be.”
That does it.
Maggie lets out a short, humorless laugh. “You ever get tired of holding everything together?”
Alex stiffens. “That’s a strange question.”
“Humor me,” Maggie says. Her voice is tight now, barely controlled.
Alex considers deflecting. She almost does.
Then she surprises both of them.
“Yes,” Alex admits. “All the time.”
Maggie looks up, really looks at her. Something in her expression softens.
“I dropped a class last year,” Maggie says suddenly. “Didn’t tell anyone. Just… stopped going.”
Alex’s breath catches. “Why?”
“Because I couldn’t do it all,” Maggie says. “Work. School. Being the ‘together one.’ Something had to give.”
Alex swallows. “That doesn’t mean you failed.”
Maggie snorts. “Try telling that to yourself.”
Alex opens her mouth, then closes it again.
Because Maggie is right. Because Alex has spent her entire life believing that if she lets one thing slip, everything will follow.
The silence between them isn’t awkward. It’s heavy. Honest.
“I shouldn’t have said what I said in seminar,” Maggie adds quietly. “About control. I think… I think I recognized something in you I don’t like in myself.”
Alex’s chest tightens. “That doesn’t give you the right to dissect me.”
“I know,” Maggie says. “But I wanted you to know it wasn’t cruelty. It was projection.”
Alex exhales slowly.
“Next time,” Alex says, voice steady but softer than before, “just ask.”
Maggie nods. “Okay.”
The announcement for closing echoes through the library.
Neither of them moves right away.
⸻
They walk out together.
It’s quiet on campus, the air cool, the lamplight casting long shadows across the paths. Alex realizes—too late—that this is the first time they’ve been alone together without an assignment looming over them.
“That was… a lot,” Maggie says.
Alex huffs softly. “You’re telling me.”
They stop near Alex’s dorm.
Neither of them says goodbye.
Maggie shifts her weight, hands shoved into her jacket pockets. “You don’t have to fix everything, you know.”
Alex looks at her. “Neither do you.”
Something changes then.
The air feels different. Thicker. Maggie’s gaze drops—not to Alex’s eyes, but to her mouth. Alex notices. Hates that she notices.
“This is a bad idea,” Alex says quietly.
Maggie’s voice is rough. “Yeah.”
Neither of them moves away.
It’s not dramatic. Not sweeping. It’s a half-step forward and a breath shared and Maggie’s hand hovering—hovering—like she’s waiting for permission.
Alex doesn’t give it.
She takes it.
The kiss is brief. Unsteady. More exhale than impact.
And then Alex pulls back, heart hammering.
“I—” she starts.
“Me too,” Maggie says quickly, like she’s bracing herself.
They stare at each other, breathless.
“That shouldn’t have happened,” Alex says.
Maggie nods. “Probably not.”
But neither of them looks upset.
Just shaken.
“I need to go,” Alex says, already stepping back.
“Yeah,” Maggie agrees. “Okay.”
Alex walks away before she can overthink it.
She barely makes it inside before leaning against the door, pulse racing, mind spiraling.
Across campus, Maggie stands alone under the lamplight, staring at the ground like it personally betrayed her.
Because whatever that was—
It wasn’t academic.
It wasn’t rivalry.
And it definitely wasn’t nothing.