Captured By You

Vi couldn’t stop thinking about her.

It was ridiculous. Irrational. Borderline embarrassing.

But the moment she had walked away from Eve that afternoon, camera still warm from the last shot, Vi had felt off—like she had left something unfinished, like the conversation was supposed to keep going, but she had run out of time.

And now, everything else felt dull in comparison.

She sat at her desk that night, scrolling through the photos she had taken earlier. Her laptop screen flickered with images of people she had barely paid attention to—students laughing, the golden glow of sunset through the trees, shadows stretching across the pavement.

But all she cared about was her.

Click. Click. Click.

There she was. Eve, on the steps, looking away from the camera. Eve, with her half-smirk, as if she knew something Vi didn’t. Eve, caught in a moment so effortlessly real that it made Vi’s chest tighten.

She traced the edge of the screen with her finger, frowning.

Why did it feel like she had captured something important?

“Why are you making that face?”

Vi jumped, nearly knocking over her glass of water.

She turned to see Powder leaning against her doorway, arms crossed, expression half-amused, half-annoyed.

Vi groaned. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to watch you staring at your screen like a total weirdo.” Powder stepped inside, peering over Vi’s shoulder. “Ooooh, is this your mysterious campus crush?”

Vi’s face burned. “She’s not—” She stopped herself, exhaling sharply. “She’s just… an interesting subject.”

Powder raised an eyebrow. “Right. And I’m a rocket scientist.”

Vi huffed, minimizing the photos and spinning her chair to face her sister. “What do you want?”

Powder flopped onto Vi’s bed, dramatically stretching her arms out. “To remind you that I exist and demand attention.”

Vi rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. “Okay, attention granted. What’s up?”

Powder smirked. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to watch something, but now I’m way more invested in your little photographer obsession.”

Vi groaned. “It’s not an obsession.”

“Mhmm. So you just happen to be sitting here, staring at her picture like she holds the secrets of the universe?”

Vi crossed her arms. “I’m analyzing composition.”

Powder snorted. “Sure. And when I stare at my phone waiting for a text, I’m just ‘analyzing communication strategies.’”

Vi threw a pillow at her. Powder caught it easily, grinning.

“Okay, okay,” Powder said, sitting up. “But, like… you like her, right?”

Vi hesitated.

Did she?

She barely knew Eve. Their conversations were short, built mostly on sarcastic remarks and quiet observations. But Eve stayed in her head, like a song Vi couldn’t turn off.

She thought about the way Eve had looked at her—like she saw through her, like she noticed things most people didn’t bother paying attention to.

And Vi wanted more of that. More of her.

“No,” Vi admitted, though, she wasn't sure if she was being completely honest. To Powder, and to herself. “She’s… different.”

Powder smirked. “You so have a crush.”

Vi groaned, covering her face with her hands. “You’re insufferable.”

Powder laughed, leaning back against the pillows. “You love me.”

Vi sighed, peeking through her fingers. “Unfortunately.”

Powder grinned. “Well, if you need any big sisterly advice on how to woo your mysterious campus enigma, I’m available for consultations.”

Vi snorted. “You’re younger than me.”

“Exactly. That means I know what’s cool.”

Vi shook her head, laughing softly. “You’re impossible.”

Powder stretched, already looking satisfied with her victory. “That’s why I’m your favorite sibling.”

Vi rolled her eyes. “No you’re not.”

“I am, and you love me.” Powder hopped off the bed, ruffling Vi’s hair as she passed. “Have fun overanalyzing your not-crush.”

Vi huffed, shooing her away. “Go away, gremlin.”

Powder just cackled as she disappeared down the hall.

Vi exhaled, turning back to her laptop.

Eve’s image was still there, minimized in the corner of the screen, waiting.

Vi hesitated—then, slowly, she reopened the photo.

Her fingers hovered over the trackpad, tracing the edges of Eve’s face.

She had never felt this drawn to someone before.

And that terrified her.

But it also made her want to see Eve again.

Vi leaned back in her chair, staring at the screen.

Yeah.

Tomorrow, she was definitely going to find her.

📷

The next day, Vi found herself scanning the campus as if her subconscious had taken over.

It was stupid—completely irrational—but her brain had decided that if she had managed to stumble upon Eve twice, then surely, she could do it again.

She walked through the main courtyard, camera hanging loosely around her neck. Students moved in clusters, laughter and conversation blending into the background. The world felt normal, but Vi didn’t.

She caught herself glancing at the benches near the library. The shaded spots under the oak trees. The stairway where she had last seen Eve.

Nothing.

Vi sighed, shaking her head. What are you even doing?

She wasn’t looking for Eve. Not really. That would be ridiculous. That would mean she was actively seeking her out, and Vi was not the kind of person to—

Her thoughts screeched to a halt.

There.

A familiar silhouette leaned against the railing of an outdoor study area, a notebook in one hand, pen twirling absently in the other.

Vi’s heart did something stupid in her chest.

Eve.

Her outfit was different today—and looked so effortlessly good.

Vi swallowed, shifting the weight of her camera.

You’re being weird. Just go over there. Act normal.

She took a step forward—then hesitated.

What was she even going to say? Hey, I accidentally got obsessed with taking pictures of you, and now I keep looking for you like some kind of creep. Thoughts?

Vi groaned under her breath, running a hand through her hair.

Too late to turn back now.

She took a deep breath and walked up to the railing, leaning against it with what she hoped was a casual air.

Eve didn’t look up immediately, still tapping her pen against her notebook. When she finally glanced over, her eyes flickered with vague recognition before settling into mild amusement.

“Well, if it isn’t my personal paparazzi,” she said dryly.

Vi’s brain short-circuited for half a second.

Then she scoffed. “I’m not your paparazzi.”

Eve smirked. “Could’ve fooled me.” She nodded toward the camera around Vi’s neck. “I assume you’re here to document my thrilling life?”

Vi rolled her eyes. “You wish.”

Eve hummed, tilting her head slightly. “So? Did you need something, or are you just lurking?”

Vi hesitated.

Had she needed something?

No. She just… wanted to talk to Eve. To know what she had written in that notebook. To hear another one of her strange, poetic thoughts that made Vi’s world tilt slightly sideways.

But saying that would make her sound like a lunatic.

Instead, she blurted out, “What are you writing?”

Eve raised a brow. “You ask a lot of questions.”

Vi winced. “Sorry.”

Eve exhaled, closing her notebook with a soft thump. “Relax, photographer. I don’t mind.”

Vi blinked. “You don’t?”

Eve smirked. “Nah. I like watching you try to act normal.”

Vi groaned. “I am normal.”

Eve gave her a look. “Sure. That’s why you looked like you were on a dramatic quest to find me just now.”

Vi stiffened. “I wasn’t—” She stopped, realizing there was no point in denying it. Eve had clearly seen right through her.

Eve just watched her, waiting.

Vi sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “Fine. Maybe I was hoping to run into you.”

Eve tapped her fingers against the notebook. “And why’s that?”

Vi hesitated, suddenly feeling uncomfortably seen. She scrambled for an excuse, something casual, something—

“I want to take another picture of you.”

Eve blinked.

Vi’s heart stuttered when Eve smiled—small, unreadable, but there.

And then—

“No.”

Vi blinked. “What?”

Eve tilted her head, eyes flicking to the camera around Vi’s neck. “You already took your last picture, remember?”

Vi’s stomach dropped. Oh. Right.

She had definitely said that yesterday.

Eve leaned back against the railing, watching her reaction with thinly veiled amusement. “Did you think I forgot?”

Vi groaned, rubbing a hand over her face. Of course she didn’t forget.

“I mean,” Vi said, trying to recover, “that was before I realized I needed another one.”

Eve scoffed. “That’s not how ‘last’ works.”

Vi sighed dramatically. “Okay, fine. Then consider this a… limited-time offer. A sequel. A deluxe edition.”

Eve smirked. “Mm. Tempting.” She glanced toward the camera again, considering. Then, with an exaggerated sigh, she pushed off the railing and stretched. “But no.”

Vi stared at her. “Seriously?”

Eve shrugged. “I don’t do sequels.”

Vi groaned. “You are so difficult.”

Eve smirked, clearly enjoying herself. “And yet, you keep coming back.”

Vi felt her face heat. She had no response to that, so instead, she crossed her arms and leaned against the railing, mirroring Eve’s posture.

Silence settled between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

Vi glanced at Eve’s closed notebook, curiosity bubbling up again. “So what were you writing?”

Eve hummed, tapping her fingers against the cover. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Vi rolled her eyes. “That’s why I asked.”

Eve sighed, as if debating whether to humor her. Then she said, “Just thoughts.”

Vi raised an eyebrow. “That’s vague.”

Eve smirked. “So is your obsession with taking pictures of me.”

Vi groaned. “It’s not an obsession.”

Eve hummed in fake agreement. “Sure.”

Vi huffed, looking away. “You’re impossible.”

Eve chuckled, flipping open her notebook. “And yet, you keep coming back.”

Vi shot her a look. “You already said that.”

Eve smirked, eyes flicking to Vi’s camera. “And yet, you keep coming back.”

Vi sighed, defeated.

Maybe she was right, she was right.

Vi knew she should let it go.

She should just nod, laugh off Eve’s teasing, and walk away.

But she didn’t want to.

Because, despite the sarcasm and the smirks and the way Eve effortlessly deflected every direct question, Vi wanted to understand her.

She wanted to know why Eve always looked like she was half in another world. Why she spoke like she was testing people—pushing just enough to see who pushed back. Why she had let Vi take one picture but refused another.

Vi turned toward her, gripping the strap of her camera. “You know, I don’t really care about the photo.”

Eve raised an eyebrow. “No?”

Vi exhaled, meeting her gaze. “I just… I want to know you.”

Eve stilled.

It was brief—just a flicker of hesitation, the smallest shift in her expression—but Vi caught it.

For a moment, she thought Eve might mock her, or brush it off like she did with everything else. But instead, Eve just studied her, as if trying to decide whether Vi was worth humoring.

Finally, she sighed, shutting her notebook with a soft thump. “That’s a dangerous thing to want, photographer.”

Vi tilted her head. “Why?”

Eve tapped her fingers against the cover. “Because once you start looking too closely at something, you might not like what you see.”

Vi frowned. “I don’t believe that.”

Eve smirked, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “That’s because you like pretty things.”

Vi hesitated. “That’s not true.”

Eve hummed, unconvinced.

Vi clenched her jaw. Why does she do this? Always turning things back on her, making her question herself.

She exhaled, steadying her voice. “I don’t just take pictures of things because they’re pretty. I take them because they mean something.”

Eve was quiet for a moment. Then, softly—“And what do I mean, Vi?”

Vi’s breath caught.

Her name. Eve had never said it before.

It sounded different in her mouth—like something important, like a secret only she was allowed to say.

Vi swallowed. “I don’t know yet.”

Eve studied her for another long moment.

Then, to Vi’s surprise, she smiled. Not a smirk. Not something sarcastic or guarded. Just… a real, small, fleeting smile.

“Well,” Eve said, pushing off the railing. “Good luck figuring it out, is not going to be nothing pretty.

And then she stoop up, this time, she was the one walking away.

Vi stood there, watching her go, pulse hammering.

She would figure it out.

Because the more Eve tried to stay a mystery—

—the more Vi wanted to solve her.