“Beneath the Brick Sky”

They had always fought in the shadow of the old university clocktower.

Rain or shine, Rhea Langston and Elias Voss found reasons to argue — stolen research, sarcastic remarks in group projects, petty jabs in the middle of lectures. Rhea, all fire and stubborn pride, wore defiance like perfume. Elias, cool and analytical, had a gaze that could cut glass. No one remembered how it started, only that it never stopped.

Until tonight.

The campus was quiet, most students long gone for spring break. Rhea had stayed behind to finish her thesis, and to her absolute disgust, so had Elias.

She found him outside, by the crumbling brick wall behind the library, staring up at the stars like he was waiting for them to apologize.

“You're in my spot,” she said, arms crossed.

He didn’t even flinch. “There are no assigned seats under the sky, Langston.”

“Could’ve fooled me. You always act like you own the universe.”

Elias looked at her then, and for the first time, he didn’t look amused or annoyed — he looked tired. Vulnerable, even.

“You ever think we’re just two people who misunderstood each other from the beginning?” he asked quietly.

Rhea blinked. The wind caught her hair. “Is that what you think this is? A misunderstanding?”

“I think,” he said, stepping closer, “I argued with you because I didn’t know how else to get your attention. And then I just... couldn’t stop.”

There was a long silence. A storm of unspoken truths swirled between them.

“You’re an idiot,” she whispered. “A brilliant idiot.”

His lips quirked. “I’ll take that.”

Then — maybe it was the way the stars hung low that night, or how the bricks behind them seemed to glow with years of stories — she kissed him. Slow, uncertain, but real.

And when he kissed her back, it wasn’t about winning.

It was surrender.

Chapter One: Sparks and Scars

The University of Velgrave was known for two things: its world-class research programs and its absurdly competitive honors cohort. Rhea Langston had clawed her way into the program with sleepless nights, brutal self-discipline, and exactly zero patience for distractions.

Elias Voss was the ultimate distraction.

He was too intelligent, too smooth, with that quiet confidence that made professors adore him and classmates despise him. Worst of all, he seemed to exist solely to challenge her in every possible way.

“I see you’ve hijacked the lab schedule again,” Rhea muttered, arms crossed, as she found Elias hunched over the microscope — her scheduled slot.

He didn’t even look up. “Langston. Don’t worry. I only need twenty minutes.”

“You’re five minutes past that,” she snapped. “But who’s counting?”

Now he did look up. Amused. “You are. As always.”

That smug smile made her want to throw something. Preferably him.

Their feud was legendary. From dueling presentations to sabotaged whiteboards, the two had become something of a spectacle — Velgrave’s own academic soap opera. No one dared get between them.

No one wanted to.

Except maybe their advisor, Dr. Harland, who cornered them after class one afternoon with the exhausted air of a man herding lions.

“You two will co-author your final thesis. Joint research. One project, one grade.”

Rhea stared. “You want me to work with him?”

Elias raised an eyebrow. “Surely there’s been a mistake.”

Dr. Harland just gave them a tight-lipped smile. “Figure it out. Or fail together.”

Chapter Two: Between the Lines

Their first research meeting took place in the dusty alcove behind the library — a forgotten space of cracked stone benches and ivy-choked walls. Elias brought notes. Rhea brought caffeine and contempt.

“You labeled your sections in comic sans?” she asked, incredulous.

“It’s ironic,” he replied.

“It’s criminal.”

But as the weeks wore on, the edges of their sharpness began to dull. Beneath the sarcasm, Rhea noticed how Elias’s notes were meticulous, his logic impeccable. And he, in turn, saw that Rhea’s passion wasn’t just fire — it was a furnace of determination and brilliance.

Late nights turned into early mornings. Arguments turned into banter. They still fought — God, they fought — but there were pauses now. Lingering looks. Fingers brushing when passing papers. Silences that stretched too long.

One night, as they left the alcove, Elias turned to her.

“Do you ever wonder,” he asked, “what we’d be like if we hadn’t started off hating each other?”

Rhea hesitated. “No. Because I think… that’s exactly why we work.”