damnnnnnnnnnm
They laughed. They built. They argued over font choices like lives depended on it. They coded until the sun rose and nerves frayed. And when the final prototype-sleek, functional, and undeniably over-engineered-was unveiled to the class, with Harvey strutting like a runway model, their audience erupted into applause. Even the notoriously stone-faced professor cracked a rare smile.
Later that night, gathered on the dorm floor in their pajamas with cereal bowls balanced on open notebooks, Rhianne looked around and smiled softly. "We work well together."
Michael gave a small nod. "Against all odds."
Chiara, her eyeliner smudged and head resting on Isabella's shoulder, murmured, "It's not so bad here."
Zach raised his spoon. "To friendship, fire hazards, and fabulous inventions."
"SBWT forever," Harvey added, already doodling their group logo on a napkin.
And in that unglamorous, imperfect moment-surrounded by cereal dust, blueprints, and laughter-they became something more than students.
They became a family.