zaire wasn't sure when demitra became a constant in his life.

it started subtly—running into each other at parties, exchanging teasing remarks, having brief conversations that always felt like they were on the edge of something more. but now, it was like she was everywhere.

at first, he told himself it was a coincidence. but then he started to notice things—how she always found her way to him in crowded rooms, how she'd plop down next to him like she belonged there, how their conversations stretched longer each time, winding from small talk into something deeper, something real.

like tonight.

he hadn't expected to see her at the student film screening, yet there she was, standing at the back of the dimly lit auditorium, her arms crossed, eyes fixed on the screen. she looked out of place in the best way, her oversized sweater slipping off one shoulder, revealing a sliver of skin, her ripped jeans hugging her legs just right.

zaire told himself he wasn't looking.

but he was.

he sighed, dragging a hand down his face. this was getting ridiculous.

"didn't peg you for the indie film type," he muttered as he slid into the empty seat beside her.

she smirked, barely glancing at him. "didn't peg you for someone who talks during movies."

zaire huffed out a quiet laugh, leaning back in his seat. "fair."

they sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the film unfold on the screen. it was one of those artsy, dialogue-heavy films that made people either roll their eyes or overanalyze every frame. zaire fell into the latter category. demitra, on the other hand, seemed utterly unimpressed.

"you're not into it," he noted after a while.

she shrugged. "it's fine. just feels a little... pretentious."

he turned to her, intrigued. "how so?"

she shifted in her seat, her gold rings catching the glow of the screen as she gestured. "it's like... it's trying so hard to be deep that it forgets to be real. people don't talk like this in real life. it's like they wrote the script just to sound poetic."

zaire raised a brow. "and what's wrong with that?"

"nothing, i guess. but it feels fake. i'd rather watch something messy and real than something polished and empty."

he studied her, the way her brow furrowed in thought, the way she spoke with certainty, like she wasn't afraid of having an opinion. he liked that about her.

a little too much.

he also liked the way her curls loosened by the end of the night, some strands slipping free like they had a mind of their own., the way her voice softened when she got lost in thought. he noticed the way her rings caught the light when she moved her hands and how she never backed down from a debate. just as much as she noticed his tattoos, the way his muscles tensed when he was focused, and how his voice dropped when he was teasing her.

"so, you'd rather watch some influencer drama unfold in real time than an actual well-crafted film?" he teased, unable to help himself.

she shot him a look, half amused, half exasperated. "why do you assume those are the only two options?"

zaire smirked. "because it's fun to get a rise out of you."

demitra rolled her eyes but didn't argue. instead, she turned back to the screen, watching as the film reached its emotional climax. the main character was giving some long-winded monologue about art and passion and the meaning of life, and demitra stifled a yawn.

zaire nudged her. "really?"

"i can appreciate it," she defended, "but does everything have to be so dramatic? sometimes life is just... life. not every moment is some grand revelation."

he hummed in thought. "maybe. but don't you think the dramatics make life a little more interesting?"

she tilted her head, considering. "maybe. but i think there's beauty in the quiet moments, too."

zaire didn't have a response to that.

mostly because he was too busy watching her.

when the film ended, they stepped outside, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the warmth of the auditorium. students lingered in groups, discussing the movie, but zaire and demitra walked in comfortable silence until they reached the quad.

"so, final verdict?" he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

she exhaled, dramatic. "six out of ten. decent cinematography, but too self-indulgent."

he chuckled. "you're brutal."

"just honest."

they reached a bench, and demitra hopped up onto it, balancing as she walked along the edge like a tightrope.

zaire leaned against the armrest, watching her. "so, what kind of movies do you actually like?"

she grinned. "ones that make me feel something. doesn't matter if it's some deep indie film or the sappiest rom-com ever—if it makes me cry, laugh, or scream at the screen, i'm sold."

zaire found himself smiling. "interesting."

demitra stopped walking, looking down at him. "and you? what's your ultimate film?"

he thought for a moment before answering. "one that sticks with you. the kind where you're still thinking about it days later, analyzing every shot, every line. like it left a mark on you."

she studied him, then nodded approvingly. "i like that."

silence settled between them again, but it wasn't awkward. if anything, it felt... easy. natural.

zaire wasn't used to that.

"you know," demitra said suddenly, hopping down from the bench. "for someone who claims to hate social settings, you always end up in them."

he sighed. "yeah, wonder whose fault that is."

she grinned. "you keep coming, though."

zaire didn't have a good response for that.

because she was right.

and the scariest part? he didn't really mind.

𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈; first chapter out for full court press