Collision

Keith's POV

My eight o'clock class ended at exactly 9:30. Too early to head back to the dorm and do nothing. The day was just starting, and I didn't feel like sitting in bed, staring at the ceiling while my roommates turned the place into a circus.

So I went to the studio.

That's one thing I like about this school. The studio's always open. Not just for classes. You can walk in any time and draw. Paint. Think. Or just sit in front of your drafting table and lose track of the noise outside.

I wasn't thinking of anything in particular when I started sketching. Just random shapes at first. A tree. Or something that started like one. But the longer my pencil moved, the more it took on a different form. The curve of the branches turned into something softer. Fuller. The silhouette of an afro began to take shape without me trying to force it. And before I knew it, I was drawing her.

A side profile. Her neck tilted slightly. Chin tucked. Like she was thinking. Like she had something to say, but wouldn't. Couldn't. I don't know how long I sat there, building shadows around the curve of her cheek. I just knew I didn't want to stop.

The studio wasn't empty. I could hear some freshmen in the background. Their voices were low but excited, like they were discovering something for the first time. Maybe someone brought them here. Maybe they just wandered in. I didn't look up to check. I didn't need to. I could feel their presence the way you feel a storm before it rains.

Then a janitor walked past me.

He slowed at my table. Didn't say anything. Just looked at my drawing for a second too long. Like he was trying to figure out what it meant. I shifted a little in my seat. His stare made the room feel too tight. I pulled the sheet from the board and folded it in half. Something about that moment threw me off. Whatever I felt before was gone.

I leaned back and reached for my jacket but paused.

I was sweating more than usual. Not like heat. More like a tightness in my chest. I took off the navy jacket, leaving just the grey sweatshirt underneath. The air hit my skin and brought some relief. For a while, I just sat there sketching buildings. Shapes. Angles. Anything that didn't look like her.

By the time I checked the clock, it was past four. I started to pack up. The studio closes around five, and I didn't want to get caught in the evening crowd.

Then my phone rang.

It was one of the dorm heads. I didn't answer right away. Just stared at the screen until it rang out. He called again. This time I picked.

"Carson had a seizure. They rushed him to the hospital a few minutes ago."

Carson.

I was out of the studio before I even knew what I was doing. I didn't pack anything. Just grabbed my phone and moved. My head wasn't clear. I walked fast, maybe too fast, and bumped into someone by the door.

"Hey, watch it," I muttered, eyes locking with hers for a second.

Her.

It was her.

The same presence that's been stuck in my mind since that day in class. Only now I saw the face behind the voice. And even though I had wanted to say something the next time I saw her, this wasn't the moment.

Carson needed me.

So I left.

No words. No double take. Just the weight of her stare behind me and the ache of what could have been.

My eight o'clock class ended at exactly 9:30. Too early to head back to the dorm and do nothing. The day was just starting, and I didn't feel like sitting in bed, staring at the ceiling while my roommates turned the place into a circus.

So I went to the studio.

That's one thing I like about this school. The studio's always open. Not just for classes. You can walk in any time and draw. Paint. Think. Or just sit in front of your drafting table and lose track of the noise outside.

I wasn't thinking of anything in particular when I started sketching. Just random shapes at first. A tree. Or something that started like one. But the longer my pencil moved, the more it took on a different form. The curve of the branches turned into something softer. Fuller. The silhouette of an afro began to take shape without me trying to force it. And before I knew it, I was drawing her.

A side profile. Her neck tilted slightly. Chin tucked. Like she was thinking. Like she had something to say, but wouldn't. Couldn't. I don't know how long I sat there, building shadows around the curve of her cheek. I just knew I didn't want to stop.

The studio wasn't empty. I could hear some freshmen in the background. Their voices were low but excited, like they were discovering something for the first time. Maybe someone brought them here. Maybe they just wandered in. I didn't look up to check. I didn't need to. I could feel their presence the way you feel a storm before it rains.

Then a janitor walked past me.

He slowed at my table. Didn't say anything. Just looked at my drawing for a second too long. Like he was trying to figure out what it meant. I shifted a little in my seat. His stare made the room feel too tight. I pulled the sheet from the board and folded it in half. Something about that moment threw me off. Whatever I felt before was gone.

I leaned back and reached for my jacket but paused.

I was sweating more than usual. Not like heat. More like a tightness in my chest. I took off the navy jacket, leaving just the grey sweatshirt underneath. The air hit my skin and brought some relief. For a while, I just sat there sketching buildings. Shapes. Angles. Anything that didn't look like her.

By the time I checked the clock, it was past four. I started to pack up. The studio closes around five, and I didn't want to get caught in the evening crowd.

Then my phone rang.

It was one of the dorm heads. I didn't answer right away. Just stared at the screen until it rang out. He called again. This time I picked.

"Carson had a seizure. They rushed him to the hospital a few minutes ago."

Carson.

I was out of the studio before I even knew what I was doing. I didn't pack anything. Just grabbed my phone and moved. My head wasn't clear. I walked fast, maybe too fast, and bumped into someone by the door.

"Hey, watch it," I muttered, eyes locking with hers for a second.

Her.

It was her.

The same presence that's been stuck in my mind since that day in class. Only now I saw the face behind the voice. And even though I had wanted to say something the next time I saw her, this wasn't the moment.

Carson needed me.

So I left.

No words. No double take. Just the weight of her stare behind me and the ache of what could have been.

Nina's POV

Wednesday didn't start right.

I was home all morning, headphones in, blasting Beyoncé while lying across my bed like someone who didn't have responsibilities. I didn't realize I had class until Bruno texted me around 11:10.

Bring an extra pen and a cold drink, thanks.

He always asked like I was his personal assistant.

I checked my timetable and groaned. I had already missed my 9:30 lecture. My next class was by noon. Which meant I had barely forty-five minutes to shower, dress, grab something from the café, and make it to class looking like I had it all together.

I skipped breakfast and rushed everything else. Picked up Bruno's drink. Grabbed my tote bag. Left my sunscreen behind in the scramble. Got to class sweaty and mildly annoyed at myself. He waved when he saw me.

"I saved you a seat," he said, patting the chair beside him.

I handed him the drink. "You better appreciate this."

"You need this more than I do," he laughed, holding the cold bottle up like a mirror. "You look like you just ran from a lion."

I glared at him. "Shut up."

We both laughed. Bruno had that effect on people. He was a clown, but in a good way.

After class ended a little after three, we grabbed food at the café. Burgers. Chips. Something sweet to drink. My stomach had been crying since morning. Sophie joined us halfway through, but Bruno kept the spotlight with stories from earlier that day.

He had gone to the art studio with a few freshmen. Mostly because his crush, Ari, was going. We teased him about it. Sophie was brutal. I kept it light.

Eventually, we all went our separate ways. Bruno left with his boys. Sophie said she was heading to the boys' hostel to meet her cousin. Apparently, her aunt sent him homemade snacks.

I didn't feel like going back to the dorm yet. I just wanted to wander. Maybe walk through campus and clear my head. I was halfway to the library when I remembered Bruno talking about the studio. I'd never been, but he made it sound like something worth seeing.

So I changed direction.

I asked someone for directions and found the studio building a few blocks from the main lecture hall. It looked better than I expected. Cleaner. Bigger. Nicer than the library, honestly.

I was reaching for my phone from my back pocket when I got a notification beep. While walking into the studio, I wasn't looking up—and that's when I walked right into someone. Or maybe he walked into me.

"Hey, watch it," he said calmly, his tone steady, like he was trying to keep something buried. He looked at me, briefly, carefully, like he knew me. But he also looked like he was in a hurry.

And I knew that voice.

But this time—I got the face.

He was dark-skinned, his complexion striking even under the soft yellow lights of the hallway. Low-cut hair with a subtle wave pattern, almost like velvet. Full eyebrows. Eyes so clear and white it was unnerving for a second, like there was nothing clouded about him. His lips were thin and pink, a stark contrast to the cool grey of his tank top that clung to his frame. His skin looked clean—like actually clear, not the Instagram kind. And his body? Fitted. Like he carried himself without apology. Taller than me by a decent amount, enough that I had to tilt my head slightly just to hold eye contact for the second we shared it.

I didn't even blink.

And he left like a breeze, fast and quiet.

I stood there for what felt like years.

I stood still for a long time, just trying to process what had happened. When I finally stepped inside, the studio was quiet. Almost empty. My eyes landed on a half-finished drawing on a board near the far wall. It looked like a girl with an afro. The detail in the curve of her neck made something stir in me. The piece wasn't done, but it felt alive.

I sat on a stool, still thinking about our moment, when I remembered I had gotten a notification earlier.

I reached for my phone just as the janitor came up beside me.

"That kid forgot his jacket again," he said, handing it to me like I was supposed to know who he meant. "He always leaves something behind. Just make sure he gets it. We can't keep stuff in here overnight."

He didn't wait for a reply. Just walked away.

I held the jacket in one hand and finally checked my phone.

A voicemail from Sophie.

Her voice was shaky. Almost too soft to understand.

"I got to the dorm and found my cousin having a seizure. Please come to the hospital. I'm so scared."

My heart dropped.

I didn't waste a second. I called her immediately and told her to text me the hospital address. Told her not to cry. Told her I was coming.

She sent it. I grabbed my bag, the jacket still in my hand, and flagged a cab.

I had never heard Sophie sound like that.

I just knew I needed to get to her. Fast.