Sara and Lureen sat at the edge of a bench in the med cafeteria, the din of students chatting and utensils clinking providing a backdrop to their wait. Malik had told them to meet here while he picked up Kai from the linguistics building so they could all grab lunch before the impending doom of afternoon labs awaiting both Sara and Malik.
Not that it was a shared wait. Lureen did all the glancing, craning her neck this way and that, while Sara kept her eyes glued to her tablet. Her lips moved silently as she muttered antibiotic names and their various usages, as if the tiny glowing screen held her life's purpose.
"It's literally been a century since Kai said they were coming!" Lureen groaned, turning to Sara with a dramatic flop of her arms. "At this point, your lab will have started, and we still won't have ordered anything!"
"It's been what?" Sara didn't even look up, tapping her screen to check the clock. "Seven minutes, Lureen. Seven. You'll live."
Lureen gave an exaggerated huff but settled back on the bench beside her. The wood dug uncomfortably into her shins as she rocked back and forth, clearly unable to sit still for long.
"Why don't you study or something? Midterms are next week. Remember those?" Sara suggested, her tone mildly condescending without looking away from her tablet.
Rolling her eyes, Lureen yanked her bag open with such force the zipper let out a sound like tearing fabric. She dug out her textbook, Revolutions and Resistance: Social Movements in Global History, slapping it onto her lap. Her attention lasted about two minutes before she turned back to Sara, unable to resist.
"You think Malik's gotten better?" she asked.
"Why wouldn't he?" Sara replied, finally looking up. Her gaze met Lureen's for a brief moment before returning to her screen. "As long as he took his meds, he should be fine—oh, and there they are."
"What? Where?" Lureen's head darted around, but she saw no sign of their friends.
With an almost exasperated air, Sara reached out and nudged Lureen's face in the right direction. "There."
Far down the path, two figures were approaching. They were still distant enough to appear as blurry specks, but their outfits gave them away.
Kai stood out even from afar. The tailored structure of his tweed blazer, buttoned snugly over a cream shirt, contrasted with the loose sway of his charcoal trousers. His satchel bounced lightly at his side with every step, the glint of his glasses catching the fading sunlight. His gait had its usual easygoing rhythm, but even from here, there was something... tight about the way he carried himself.
Beside him, Malik was a stark contrast in his monochromatic simplicity. A long black trench coat hung over his frame, its sharp edges rippling faintly in the wind. Beneath it, a black turtleneck and matching jeans created a seamless, understated ensemble that made him look both effortlessly chic and detached. His hands were buried deep in his coat pockets, and his head was tilted slightly toward Kai, as though listening intently.
At first, everything seemed normal. But then Sara sniffed lightly, her nose twitching. Her expression shifted in a way that drew Lureen's attention.
"What?" Lureen asked, frowning. "What is it?"
"Do you smell that?" Sara muttered, now sniffing at the air like a suspicious bloodhound.
"No... should I? Wait—oh my god, what is that?!" Lureen clapped a hand over her nose, her tone shooting up an octave as the foul odor hit her.
The smell was an assault on the senses, like a putrid combination of rotting fruit and dead flowers, with an underlying sickly-sweet note that made it all the worse. And yet, it was unmistakably laced with Kai's usual scent—spiced orange and cedarwood, warm and familiar. Which meant the source of the stench wasn't Kai.
