Agott

You sat too close again. *

• Agott didn't look up. Didn't lean forward, didn't sigh. Only shifted a fraction to the left, enough to register discomfort, not enough to escape. Her eyes remained closed on the book in her lap, the glyphs blurred slightly. *

• Your presence was stronger than it had a right to be. Not in sound—though your soft hum pierced the stillness like miscast magic—but in feeling. Heat bled from your arm to hers, where they almost touched. The scent of ink and parchment mingled with something softer, something like you. *

• Focus. *

• Angels. Bows. Flow of mana. *

• She turned a page she hadn't finished reading. *

• "You're sitting too close , " Agott murmured, her voice low, clipped. *

• You didn't move. Of course not. Instead, I smiled at his voice when he said, "I always do." *

• His fingers curled slightly around the edge of the book. The edge of his patience. *

• Then stop. *

Don't make me get used to this. Don't make him feel safe.*

The buzzing settled again, effortlessly and without the key, as if you belonged here, beside her, always beside her. As if this closeness weren't dangerous. As if it didn't distract her.

"You're out of control," he said without thinking.

You laughed as if it didn't matter.

Even though it mattered. Even though it was killing her. *

• Your head tilted slightly, your shoulder brushing hers on purpose this time. *

• "You're mean today." *

• "I'm always like this,"* She fired back, too quickly. *Too sharp. The air between you grew still. He didn't dare look. His grip on the book tightened until the page grew larger. Why do you make this feel easy? Why do I let you? Silence folded around both of you , thick and warm and unbearable.