Between fists and ice

Push your way in between

That's when I hear her.

"Enough."

The word cuts clean through the room like a blade of glass.
Miss Deyran stands in the doorway to the equipment room, arms loose at her sides, her gaze locked on us.
It's not a question, not curiosity — it's the look of someone who already knows exactly what's happening.

Jonas lowers his head, mumbling something I don't catch.
I stay where I am, spine straight, fists clenched, the tension pulsing through my shoulders. Fuck I really hate this guy. 

"One step back, Miss Kaelen," she says, calm but firm enough that I obey.
I step back, force my fingers to unclench.

She moves between us, positioning herself so she can see both of us.
"This ends now," she says. "You both grab your things and leave the hall. No more words."

I want to speak — to say he started it, that I only reacted — but her look silences me.
It isn't cold. It's just... final.

Jonas mutters something like "Guilt," grabs his bag, and leaves. The door slams shut behind him, its echo lingering longer than it should.

I stay still. The adrenaline ebbs, leaving only that hollow aftermath.
My breath is uneven; my hands tremble faintly.
Deyran turns to me, and for a long moment, there's only silence and again i could not look away.

"Were you going to hit him?" she asks quietly.

I swallow, unsure what to say.
"No," I manage. "Maybe... for a second. But I wouldn't have."

She nods almost imperceptibly.
"I believe you. Still, I expected more — that you wouldn't let petty words shake you so easily."

I stare at her, searching her face for something — reproach, disappointment, maybe understanding.
But she stays unreadable, as always.
And yet, in her tone, there's the faintest trace of something else — something that sounds almost like concern.

"I—" I start, but she lifts her hand.

"Not now. Get some fresh air. Then think — not about him, but about yourself."

Her words are calm, measured, but they stay with me as I move toward the door.
I can feel her gaze on my back, and it makes me angry — not at her, but at how unfairly right she is.
It pisses me off.

I'm almost at the door, my hand on the cold handle, when her voice reaches me again.

"Miss Kaelen?"

I stop.
This time her tone is softer. Not a command, just my name — but it holds me still.
So I turn.

She's still standing in the middle of the gym, the light from above sliding over her blonde bun, making her skin look almost unnaturally pale against the dull gray of the floor.
Now that I think about it, her whole appearance is something else — that pale complexion, those silver-like strands of hair, and those ghostly gray eyes.
Her posture radiates that effortless balance she always carries, as if her body could never truly fall out of alignment. Remarkable, really.

For a moment, she says nothing.
My footsteps fade into silence, and somewhere in the distance, a quiet dripping echoes — maybe from the roof, maybe from the rain outside.
The weather's been miserable lately.

Then she speaks.
"That run earlier — it was good, Kaelen."

I blink, unsure if I heard her right.
"Excuse me?"

A barely visible twitch touches her lips — not quite a smile, but dangerously close.
"You heard me," she says evenly. "You were precise. Focused and controlled, just as I asked."
She pauses briefly, as if deciding whether to continue.
"I rarely see someone lose themselves so completely in movement."

I don't know what to say.
A compliment — from her of all people.
It feels strange, like an unexpected beam of light you can't quite believe is meant for you because you've forgotten what warmth feels like.

"I... thank you," I murmur, though it sounds awkward, almost guilty, like I don't deserve it.
What the hell is wrong with me?

She steps closer, her voice lower now, softer — and for a second, I'm sure she's not just talking about training.
"Maybe you should do that more often."

"What do you mean?" I ask, uncertain, as the faint scent of coconut and something distinctly her drifts close enough to make my heart stutter.

"Lose yourself," she says, and this time, there's a hint of a smile — subtle but real.
"But perhaps in the right places," she adds teasingly.

I open my mouth, trying to come up with something clever, something to deflect, but my thoughts stumble over each other.
It feels like she's reading me — layer by layer — and not even trying.

"And, Miss Kaelen?"

"Yes?"

"Try not to knock anyone over next time someone provokes you."

Her eyes are serious, but her voice carries a dry humor that catches me off guard.
I actually laugh — a quiet, genuine sound that feels strange in my own throat.

"I'll do my best," I say, and she nods as if that's exactly what she wanted to hear.

"Then I'll see you again for the last class. Hopefully in a better mood."

I look at her for another moment before turning away, opening the door, and stepping into the corridor.
The rain has grown louder.

I don't know why, but as I walk down the hall, I feel something I haven't felt in a long time — a lightness.
Not much.
Just a small, fleeting spark.

And I know it's because of her.