enemies to lovers one shots

desks

She always sat two seats in front, one to the left of me. Her brown hair always cascaded in waves so perfectly imperfect they looked as if they'd taken hours to gently fall into place. It was always fluffed out and wild on the sides from all the running she did - thin lines building little windows for me to peek through. 

Her door was always closed though, and when it opened it was to yell at me to leave. I could never get her to talk, not the way she did with others. With me, it was always different. But not the type of different I wanted. Though I supposed that was mostly my doing, I wasn't any better than her when it came to our arguments. And I was too scared to try it now.

My hand was always squashed against the side of my right cheek, bored to anyone looking, but I couldn't have been more attentive as I took in her quick movements -- a toss of hair over her shoulder; grabbing a pencil out of her satchel; unconscious doodling; little scrunches of her nose; a bitten lip to stop the laughter. 

It was all so stupid. So little, so minuscule, so insignificant, but for the life of me I couldn't understand why I couldn't let her out of my sights. Why watching her studious little frown as she scribbled made me smile thinking of how smart she was; why hearing a bubble of laughter slip past through her lips made me want to bottle the sound up and keep it on my bedside table, ready to hear it in my ears in the morning, before I shut off the dim yellow lights, while I worked, while I trained, wherever I was. 

Maybe it was because I could never get her to laugh on my own. Maybe because when she frowned at me it wasn't because she was upset she couldn't write all she had wanted, but because I was a nuisance to her. I could dream like this, class after class, two seats, and one to the right behind her, but that's all it would ever be - a dream. A dream that felt more like a nightmare. 

It was always like this in History class. I spent the hour learning her rather than the lessons -- it was the one class she did better than me in. 

It was always like this, which was why I couldn't understand why as I sat in my chair, arm ready to hold my face, she didn't show up. The class filed in, the lesson began and I panicked. Late wasn't in her vocabulary, much less late to History. 

I looked around, no one else seemed concerned as they chatted and listened. All I could see was the empty chair two seats in front and one to the left of me. I rose from my chair in a daze, barely acknowledging the scrape of the metal against the ground, the hush of voices, the questions of my teacher. 

"I'm sorry, I have to go," I mumbled, feeling like I wasn't in control of my own body. I didn't know where she was, I just needed to find her. 

One step out of the classroom and I was running down the tiled floors towards the courtyards. If she was anywhere, it would be there. 

I spotted the brown curls I had been searching for almost instantly, pressed against the bright green of the bushes scattering the benches of the courtyards. I ran to her faster than I've ever run in training. 

I didn't bother announcing my presence as I reached the bench she was on. She jumped up, startled. "What - what are you doing here?" her voice was quiet, timid. 

I stopped cold when I saw her face. Tears. I'd never seen them on her, and I never wanted to again. 

"What happened?" I demanded, taking a seat next to her and turning so I faced her completely. This was not the girl I knew, and I knew her very well. 

Her fingers brushed the tears away harshly, with a grimace she turned away, "It's none of your business, please go away."

She wasn't snarky, she wasn't yelling, she wasn't smirking. She wasn't her. 

I was sure I could feel the sound of my heart shatter into a thousand pieces as I watched her. She looked like I felt - broken. 

The adrenaline left me, I felt exhausted, depleted, like someone had taken all my energy out of me. I wanted to hug her more than anything. 

"I'm not leaving you," I told her. It was a promise, one I would never break. 

She sent me a quick glance, sniffling slightly. I didn't blame her for her disbelief. I let myself brush her arm, but couldn't find the courage to leave it there. "What's wrong?" I asked, my voice coming out quieter than it ever had before.

Her eyes squeezed shut, "Mum's in the hospital."

I sucked in a breath. I'd heard her sharing her concerns about her mother before, to other kids, never to me. I never knew it was so serious. My brows furrowed, my mouth opened and shut -- I didn't know what to say to help her. 

I watched her carefully. She looked beautiful as always, but with exhaustion that didn't suit her. An idea filled me instantly, and with a hesitant smile I hoped appeared more confident, I stood up and offered her a hand. 

She looked at me in surprise. 

"Do you know how far the hospital is?" I asked her.

Understanding filled her as she gaped at me, "No... no, but you - we can't -"

I cut her off, "Since when did you let anyone stop you from doing anything?"

She looked away from me, fiddling with one of her curls as she thought. 

I slid the curl off her finger and onto mine, giving it a light tug. I didn't want to think about what I was doing. If I did, I would lose any semblance of confidence I had. 

"I'm sure you're mum will be glad to see you," I offered her another smile, and after a moment's silence, she stood and took my hand. It took everything in me not to squeeze hers and hold it so tight she could never let it go. 

She cleared her throat, looking down at the dirt below before whispering, "Thank you."

"I should be thanking you," I told her. 

She frowned, "For what?"

"You got me out of History."

She let out a little laugh, and I sighed in relief that she was no longer crying. 

As we walked towards the exit of the Academy, hands so close to being held together again, I felt happier than I had ever been. 

"How did you even find me?"

"You always come out to the gardens," I glanced at her, "They should engrave your name on that bench."

She nudged me, and then eyed me carefully, "I never thought anyone noticed."

Without even thinking, I blurted out, "I notice everything you do."

She paused, face slightly red, but not more than mine must have been. How was I supposed to explain that away?

"You... you what?"

I looked away, a tight smile on my face, "Nothing, nothing, let's go to the hospital now, before someone comes to stop us."

I began walking and heard her footsteps as she quickly followed. I let out a shaky breath, but as soon as I did, I felt her hand slip into mine and I was suffocating again. She squeezed it tightly, and after calming myself, I squeezed back.

I couldn't bring myself to look at her as she walked with me, her hand fitting perfectly in mine. A warm blanket protecting me from the harsh winter. All was right with the world with her hand entwined with mine. I would hold on to the peace she gave me for as long as I could.