Art Fest prep had turned the academy into a madhouse, and the shared storage room between Painting and Sculpture departments was ground zero. It was a cramped, dusty cave stuffed floor to ceiling with canvases, clay blocks, easels, and tangled extension cords basically a tetanus hazard with a side of creative gold. Pim squeezed in, balancing a stack of paint tubes, muttering, ""Why do they hide the cereluan all the way at the back?"
He stretched on tiptoes, fingers grazing the shelf then disaster. His elbow knocked a precariously balanced box of Mew's sculpting tools. It teetered, wobbled and the whole avalanche came down. Chisels, wire cutters, and a heavy mallet rained onto the floor, and Pim followed, tumbling backward right into a solid chest.
"Oof!" They hit the ground in a tangle of limbs and clattering metal, Pim sprawled half on top of Mew, their faces inches apart. Paint tubes rolled away like escaped marbles.
"You again?" Mew's voice rumbled up from beneath him, low and exasperated, but his hands steadied Pim's waist automatically firm, warm through the thin fabric of his shirt. Up close, Pim could see the faint freckles across Mew's nose, smell the earthy clay on his skin mixed with rain fresh soap. Those dark eyes narrowed, but there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he was fighting a laugh.
"S-sory! The paints the were hiding, and then avalanche." Pim's heart hammered, face flaming as he tried to scramble up but only managed to knee P'Mew in the thigh. "Oh god, did i break anything? Your tools? I'm the worst!"
Mew shifted, propping them both up with one arm, the other still loosely around Pim's waist. "Nothing vital. Just watch the—" He paused as their gazes locked, breaths mingling in the stuffy air. Pim's fluffy hair tickled Mew's chin, and for a split second, neither moved.
Then whistle Gun's head poked through the half open door, his grin splitting wide. "Well, damn, Mew. Smooth moves, bro tackling cute painters into supply piles? That's next level sculpture foreplay."
From the hallway, Ban's voice screeched, "Pim! You okay? Wait is that P'Mew? Are you flirting in there? Get it, tiger."
Laughter erupted from both sides Gun howling, Ban whooping like a hyena. Pim yelped and finally rolled off, scrambling to gather tools while giggling uncontrollably. Mew sat up, rubbing his thigh with a mock glare, but his ears were pink. He handed Pim a chisel, fingers brushing again like static on a canvas.
"Here. And yeah" Mew muttered, voice gruff but eyes dancing, "you owe me coffee for the tackle."
"Deal!" Pim beamed, heart soaring as they untangled amid the chaos. Sparks weren't just flying they were igniting.