"Adam—Adam!"
Kara's voice sounded distant, warped, like it was echoing through water.
Adam groaned softly, the dull ache in his head pulsing as light seeped through his eyelids. He blinked once. Then again. White blurred into focus above him—white ceiling tiles, too bright, too clean.
And then—
Her face.
Kara hovered over him, hands clenched at her sides, her brows drawn together so tightly they almost touched. Her eyes were glossy with worry, her lips parted as if she'd been holding her breath for far too long.
The moment his eyes fully opened, Kara froze.
Then her shoulders dropped.
Her breath hitched.
A small, shaky smile broke across her face—soft, relieved, real.
"Oh—thank God," she whispered.
Adam shifted, wincing slightly as he pushed himself upright. The thin mattress crinkled beneath him, and the sterile smell of antiseptic filled his nose. He glanced around and realized where he was.
The nurse's office.
Bandages wrapped around his knuckles. Gauze taped carefully along his cheek and jaw. A dull throb radiated from the side of his face every time he moved.
Kara stood beside the bed, close enough that he could see the faint shadows under her eyes.
Adam smiled.
Not the teasing one. Not the smug one.
A gentle smile.
"Kara…" he murmured, his voice rough. "You're here."
For a split second, her expression softened completely.
Then it snapped.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" she snapped.
Adam blinked.
"You can't just start fights like that!" she continued, her voice shaking now—not with fear, but anger. "Do you have any idea what could've happened to you?"
Adam looked down at the white sheets pooled around his waist, at his bandaged hands resting uselessly in his lap.
"I know," he said quietly. "I just… lost my temper."
"You lost your temper?" Kara scoffed, pointing at his face. "That guy almost broke your jaw, Adam. You could've been seriously hurt."
He nodded, accepting it.
Then his eyes drifted.
To her hand.
Wrapped in a thin bandage.
His brow furrowed.
"…What happened?" he asked gently.
Before she could react, he reached out and took her hand carefully, cradling it like it might break. His thumb brushed the edge of the bandage as he examined it.
Kara stiffened.
Her face flushed instantly as she pulled her gaze away.
"I—" she hesitated, then tugged her hand back. "I lost my temper too."
Adam's eyes widened.
She fought someone… for me?
Something warm and overwhelming bloomed in his chest.
Before she could protest, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug.
"Aww," he said softly, smiling into her shoulder. "I knew you cared about me."
Kara froze.
Her body locked instantly, heat rushing to her face, her heart slamming painfully against her ribs. She could feel his warmth through his shirt, steady and grounding and far too close.
She shoved him away, lips pressed tight, eyes fierce.
"Of course, dumbass," she snapped. "Don't make it weird."
Her face betrayed her anyway—pink and flustered.
They fell into silence.
The nurse's office was quiet, the only sounds the ticking of a clock and distant hallway noise muffled behind the closed door.
Adam shifted.
Slowly, carefully, he leaned toward her again—not pulling her in this time.
Their faces stopped inches apart.
Too close.
Kara's breath caught.
She'd never been this close to him before. Never noticed things so clearly.
His chocolate-brown eyes darkened as they searched her face. She saw the way his pupils widened, then subtly contracted. The faint flutter of his lashes. The shallow rise and fall of his chest.
His gaze burned—not aggressive, not rushed.
Just… there.
Present.
Her skin felt like it was on fire.
Her cheeks flushed a deep red, stark against her pale skin. Her lips trembled slightly as she struggled to breathe normally.
This was too much.
Too fast.
She pulled back sharply, her heart pounding.
"Get some rest," she said quickly, her voice unsteady. "Okay? I—I need to go back to class."
Adam searched her face, concern flickering there now.
"Kara—"
She shook her head.
"I'll see you later."
She turned and walked out before he could say another word, not daring to look back.
Adam watched her leave from the bed, his chest aching in a way he didn't understand.
She moved like soft rain.
Quiet.
And already gone.