A sip to hell

A September chill blew through the lecture hall, but for Elliot, it was just a mass of air moving from high to low pressure.

It held no poetic meaning, only the certainty that winter was coming.

Across the room, a couple huddled together for warmth. A statistically inefficient way to regulate body temperature, he thought, chewing absently on the end of his pen.

He would have preferred the privilege of a blanket and a movie, but instead, he was here, sleep-deprived and calculating the entropy of the universe.

Only sixteen minutes had passed, but his desk was a chaotic mosaic of frantic, random notes.

To his left, Aiden’s face was a tight mask of annoyance. Not from the clutter, nor from Elliot’s strange muttering, but from the relentless, plastic-on-enamel sound of him chewing his pen.

Aiden tilted his face toward Elliot anxiously, his voice a strained whisper.

Professor Marx had always terrified him.

“You already know how many bacteria are on that pen. Stop chewing.”

Elliot continued, the pen cap clicking against his teeth. “No wonder a cold has you bedridden. Your immune system is so weak, Aiden. You should train it like you train your body in the gym. The gym is probably just an excuse to rub shoulders with hot guys. Oh, you’re surprised. I already know your sexual orientation, but why are you exaggerating it? Oh, yes, yes. Your father is a member of your hometown church. I’m not judging here. I’m a very open-minded person...” He muttered, oblivious to how Aiden had shrunk back in his seat.

Aiden’s knuckles were white where he gripped his own pen, his eyes darting towards Professor Marx as if begging for an escape.

Elliot was already calculating the statistical probability of Aiden’s father being a closeted homophobe based on his church’s denominational doctrine.

The lecture was already halfway through when the door opened.

Students turned for a few seconds to see the usual culprits: Mara and Tatiana, already launching into their practiced apologies and excuses.

Although Professor Marx was a human lie detector, Mara was a serial liar who could convince you goats can fly.

Elliot watched them with his usual scowl, though to Aiden, it seemed even more intense.

Elliot bit his lower lip, physically trapping the words that always escaped his mouth.

He didn’t want anyone to know what he was thinking.

He tilted his head to the right as they passed, his nostrils flaring. Cheap liquor under that woody perfume.

Not her usual vanilla.

She didn’t sleep in her own room.

She was with Tatiana and her boyfriend from that band; only his cousins knew.

But are you so close to him that you use his cologne, or were you just desperate to hide the smell?

He was pulled from his reverie by the vibration of his phone.

A text: “I’m in front of your hall. How much longer do you have?” Elliot reached into his pocket, feeling the small, sealed bags. Reassured, he replied with his other hand, “A few minutes.”

Professor Marx walked towards his desk and gathered his papers in a gesture that promised freedom. “Okay, I know you all love my lectures very much, but it’s time for some suffering. This is a group project. Groups of three. No begging for four or two; I already did the math. You will measure the equilibrium constant of the reaction and tell me whether the theory actually matches reality. It’s due in three weeks. We’ll confirm groups in the conference room after lunch.”

A collective sigh filled the room as students headed out, already feeling the weight of the work.

Elliot slipped into the men’s room down the hall.

The tile echoed.

Leaning against a sink was Arthur, looking more nervous than a customer should.

“You made it,” Elliot said, his voice flat.

He checked under the stall doors for feet. All clear. “Of course you recognized me,” Arthur laughed, a tight, anxious sound. “Even with the dog profile pic. Rumors are right; you are quick.” “Rumors about me?” Elliot’s face didn’t change. “If you put it like that, I’ll have a panic attack.” He didn’t smile.

Arthur’s laughter died in his throat.

Elliot pulled a sealed bag from his inner jacket pocket. “Poppy petal blend. Stronger than your usual. Start small. The sleep aid is a tea. Doses are on the label.” He held it just out of reach.“Oh, I’ll try it tonight and give you my honest opinion.”

Arthur tapped his phone a few times. “Okay, I’ve transferred the agreed amount.“Elliot’s phone buzzed with the notification. He smiled.

“I feel alive now.”

He waved and headed towards the cafeteria, muttering, “A hazelnut crepe would be perfect.” The scent hit him—that same cheap liquor poorly masked by a heavy cologne.

He didn’t have to turn around.

He could hear their whispers, a poorly hushed argument near the vending machines.

“...just ask him!” Tatiana hissed. “What do I even say?” Mara’s voice replied, strained.

Elliot slowed his pace, giving them time to catch up.

He pretended to be engrossed in his phone.

“Elliot! Hey!” Tatiana’s voice turned saccharine sweet.

She slid into step beside him, with a flustered Mara trailing behind.

“Fancy meeting you here. Heading to the caf? Us too.” She nudged Mara, who offered a weak smile.Tatiana barreled on. “You know, I think we should actually sit together. Play some cards.” She looked at Mara and blinked.

“Oh yeah... you brought your cards, as usual.”Mara was in front of him.

They hadn’t spoken since the beginning of the semester when she asked him about her lost notebook.

He still remembered every word. He stuck out his tongue as he muttered, “To reach the flower petals you must bear the thorns.” The girls exchanged a confused glance, unable to decipher the whisper. Then he put on a flat, neutral smile. “I said I really like cards. Let’s go.“The cards slapped against the table one by one until the last landed in Elliot’s hand. He leaned back with a grin, spreading his winning hand. The two girls groaned, tossing their cards in defeat.“Again,” he drawled, stacking the pile of coins closer to his side.“You two are so much fun,” Tatiana said, her cheer sounding frayed.

“We should hang out till the end of the semester, haha.” She leaned forward. “We could hang out all the time. We should just do the project together. We’d be a good group, don’t you think?“Elliot watched Mara avoid his eyes.

Tatiana’s agenda was as transparent as the equations on the lecture hall board, but it was an agenda that served his own.“Okay,” he replied, his tone utterly nonchalant. “We’ll meet with the professor to confirm the group.“Tatiana shot Mara a triumphant look. “See? “It’s that easy?“But Mara didn’t look triumphant.

She finally glanced up at Elliot, and a sudden gust of wind from an open window whipped through the cafeteria, scattering a few loose cards and tangling her short brown hair.As she brushed the strands from her eyes, her gaze locked with his. For a single, fleeting second, her guard was down. The performative smile from the game was gone. She was just... there.Elliot saw his opening.

He leaned across the table right in front of Tatiana, his voice dropping to a murmur meant only for Mara.

“The wind seems to like you.“Tatiana stopped gloating and stared, her eyes narrowing at the intrusion.

Elliot ignored her completely, his focus absolute.

He wanted to tell Mara it wasn’t fair that the air could touch her so freely when he couldn’t.

The words that came out were a quiet, desperate truth.”I wish it was me.“He saw her breath catch.

Tatiana’s mouth had fallen open in outright shock.

He didn’t care. He wasn’t sure Mara had heard the last part over the noise, but her eyes widened almost imperceptibly. Then her smile returned—not Tatiana’s wide, fake one, but a smaller, uncertain curve of her lips that made his own heart stutter a chaotic, illogical rhythm against his ribs.