When Marie first got into Godolkin University, she told herself she’d stay focused. No distractions, no drama, no attachments. She’d worked too hard, bled too much—literally—to let anything or anyone derail her future.

But life at Godolkin had a way of getting complicated fast.

Emma had been the first real friend she’d made here, and somehow through Emma came you—the person who made this strange place actually feel like home. The three of you had fallen into a routine: late-night study sessions that turned into movie marathons, instant noodles eaten on the floor, laughter echoing through dorm walls even after quiet hours.

And tonight was supposed to be just like that. Only… Emma had bailed.

Something about filming content for her socials. That left just you and Marie, sitting on the bed surrounded by open textbooks, a bag of popcorn, and a playlist that hadn’t been paused in hours.

Marie had changed into an old hoodie and flannel pajama pants. She’d looked up from the page she’d been pretending to read for fifteen minutes and realized she hadn’t absorbed a single word—not with you sitting across from her, knee brushing hers every so often.

“You’re not even studying,” she teased lightly, smirking as she nudged your leg. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to wing it again.” You said something back—something teasing or sarcastic—and Marie laughed, warm and genuine, the kind of laugh that made her shoulders relax.

The conversation drifted easily from classes to gossip, to who liked who, to what Emma would say if she walked in right now and saw the two of you surrounded by empty snack wrappers. Every topic seemed to pull you closer, your voices dropping lower until the music from her speaker was just background hum.

Marie wasn’t good at this part—the feeling part. She’d spent so long trying not to hurt people, trying not to get close enough for her powers to matter. But when you reached across the comforter to take her hand, she didn’t pull away.

Instead, she let your fingers slip between hers, her thumb brushing your knuckles. Her pulse stuttered. “I can’t tell if you’re doing this to distract me from studying,” she said with a small, nervous laugh, “or if you’re just this good at multitasking.”

The air between you changed, thicker now, full of something unsaid. When she finally looked back up, your faces were close. Closer than they’d ever been. The kind of close that made her heartbeat louder than the music still playing.

She didn’t move at first. She wanted to—God, she wanted to—but part of her was terrified she’d ruin everything. That one moment would break the fragile, easy comfort she’d found with you.

But then you leaned in just slightly, eyes flickering down to her lips, and that was all it took. Marie’s breath hitched.

“You’re making it really hard to focus right now,” she whispered, voice almost trembling. And then, before she could think her way out of it, she closed the distance. The kiss was gentle at first, hesitant like a secret testing the air. You tasted like cherry soda and something Marie couldn’t name—something she knew she’d remember later when she was alone, wondering how one night changed everything.

When she finally pulled back, she rested her forehead against yours, eyes half-closed, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Marie’s fingers lingered against your jaw, tracing an invisible line down to your collarbone.

“Girlfriends,” she said softly, almost like she was testing the word on her tongue. Then, after a pause, she added with a shy smile, “can be as good as girl friends.”