𝗘𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗼𝘁'𝘀 𝗣𝗢𝗩:

I was in my bed, just staring up at the ceiling. It was 3:48, and I couldn't sleep. My mind was wandering to my da- my ex-father. I don't know why, but I've been thinking of him non-stop for the past week. Endless questions filled my brain, never to be answered. I closed my eyes, trying to settle down enough to sleep, but in a matter of two seconds I felt something heavy fall on my chest. I jumped up, but it was just Alain, my little brother. He's 4, he was born 5 months after my ex-father left, which was 5 years ago. I helped my mom name him, because Alain means "little rock," since his existence is the foundation of our family. 

"What are you doing awake, mon petit feu?" He just reached his chubby little hands up and gurgled, "I not sleepy, Ellie! I stay awake like you!" and giggled, which instantly put a smile on my face. "So you wanna play, huh?" He nodded. "Well if you want to play... you can't be loud, okay petit feu?" He clapped his hands as quietly as possible, which was extremely amusing to me. I lifted him up and twirled him around, laughing quietly so I don't wake Mom up. He knows to be just as quiet, being the intelligent boy that he is. Then we go to his bedroom/nursery, which has all his toys in it. I let him play while I go get him a banana and some milk for breakfast, grabbing a muffin for myself as well.

When I walk in I see him murmuring to himself, holding two Barbies and making them hold hands. I chuckle to myself. Ever since he saw two women kissing in a cafe a year ago, he's refused to play with anything but his dolls. I walk in, him not looking up, then sit across from him and softly bop the top of his nose, making him giggle adorably. When he sees the banana he reaches his hands out, ever so polite, and when I've given it to him he eats it and the milk without making a mess. That's one thing me and Mother didn't have to teach him, he was just born so prim and pristine and polite. 

When we've both finished I walk to his closet, with him following me like a little shadow. I ask him if he sees anything he wants to wear, and he doesn't respond. Instead, he runs to the door, wrenches it open with all his force, and runs to my room. I follow him, confused, but then I see him make his way to my closet, opening the door and searching for something. I let him, knowing nothing will fit but not wanting to burst his giddy little bubble. After a few minutes he walks over to me with a green skirt in his arms. "I wanna wear this!" "Are you sure, 𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘶𝘳?" He nods, grinning brightly. I couldn't say no. I take the skirt and cut off a few inches from the bottom. Then I made sleeves out of the fabric that I cut off, and I sew them onto the top of the skirt. Next, I scrunched up the top so that the hole wasn't so big, and sewed that to itself so that it stayed. Then I put it over Alain, after taking off his pajamas. (A/N: Sorry if the description's terrible, I know nothing about sewing.) 

(This is what the dress looks like ^)

I let him look in the mirror and the second he saw himself, his eyes lit up and he started smiling from ear to ear. "I'm so beautiful!!" he said, but he pronounced beautiful so that it sounded like "bootiful." I laughed. "You sure are, my little flower." His smile grew even bigger when I said that, he loves being called a flower. "I'm gonna go show Mama!!" he said, and ran out of the room, nearly tripping over himself and falling flat on his face. I tried to stop him, but he was way too excited. He burst into my mom's room, and I saw her still fast asleep. He ran over to her, shook her arm and said loudly, "Mama! Mama! Ellie made me a dress! I'm a bootiful flower now!" 

Her eyes opened slowly, then she sat up and rubbed them. When she looked back at Alain, her eyes widened with shock, then her mouth broke into a smile. "Oui, ma cherie, you are indeed tres magnifigue." She held out her arms, and he jumped right into them. Within seconds, I heard soft, quiet snoring. He had fallen asleep right in her arms, that adorable heap of joy. 

My mother looked up at me, still smiling. "Did you make that, Eli? You really are getting good at sewing. It's truly magnificent." I smiled; I have the kindest mother in the world. "Thank you, maman. I learned from the best." At that, she stood up and gave me a one-armed hug, the other holding firmly onto Alain. She looked at the time. "Oh, mon Dieu, it's 6:45, you've got to go to school! Go on and get dressed, wait, have you eaten? Did Alain eat? Do you want to walk or do you want me to ta-" 

"Me and Alain have eaten already, and I'll walk. It's okay, Mom. I'll be fine. Now, let me put Alain in his crib, and you get ready for work, okay?" I kissed her cheek. "You worry too much." I add with a small smirk, knowing her response. "Then maybe you should stop being so troublesome," she responds with a smirk of her own. This has been our inside joke since before I can remember. Whenever her and my ex-father or me and my ex-father got in a fight, We'd say that so that we know we're not angry at each other, but my ex-father wouldn't understand and he wouldn't hurt either of us for 'engaging and cooperating with the enemy'. 

I carefully took my brother from her arms, then walked into his room and set him in his bed. Then I walked to my room and looked in my closet, the place I spent too much of my life in, literally and figuratively. As I shift through the closet, I see a wisp start to form next to me, but when I think about how adorable Alain is in that dress, the wisp disappears. I finally settle on some ripped jeans, my favorite shirt that I wear simply to piss off all the Christian kids at school (so everyone), some black and white Converse, and a dark grey hoodie. 

(His outfit ^) 

I grab my backpack, walk out of my room, yell bye to my mom, and walk out the door. The second the door closes, a ghost-like figure materializes next to me. I inwardly groan but I just say, "Hello, Ari." She looks almost exactly like me, except her hair is lighter and longer, she's a lot skinnier, and she's wearing different clothes. She also looks a few years younger, and she's not walking on the ground; she's floating about a foot above it, and she's slightly transparent. 

"Hey to you too asshole. It seems like today is going great so far, how about I change that up?" I ignore her as best as I can, but it's difficult because she keeps talking, now floating on her back. "I, for one, think that dress was sloppy, if I do say so myself. Also, you need to stop calling him "flower" and letting him play with Barbies, if he does he'll end up a faggot, just like you! Except worse. At least you're half straight. But a fag's a fag, dearest. No arguing with that." She was really getting on my nerves, but if I retaliate, she'll only get worse, more annoying, and make me do Lord-knows-what to myself later. 

"Ah, cat's got your tongue? See, I told you! I was right. But that's besides the point. I'm interested in seeing how badly you fuck up today! Something's just bound to go wrong, don't you think? Maybe more teasing, probably more beating though. I can't wait to watch that happen!" This bitch. Was I really that annoying back then? "At least I'm not stuck being an annoying bitch for all of eternity. Must be torture," I say. At that, she laughs- well, more of a screech than a laugh. "Oh, but it's not! It's the most fun, pleasing thing in the world. I get to make you suffer! It's absolutely delightful." 

By now we had reached the school. I walked through the crowds to my locker, Ariana talking and throwing slurs at me the whole time. I was just about to scream at her to shut up when I see someone that makes her voice and everything else disappear from my world. It's a person, probably a girl, though it's hard to tell. He or she has curly, short, soft-looking hair, a few bruises and scars visible on their face and arms, soft, kind, shy, blue eyes, skin that somehow simultaneously stays tan and pale, skinnier than what seems healthy, a great sense of style based on what he or she is wearing, and is overall just beautiful... 

I'm snapped out of my trance by Ari screaming in my ear. I flinch and mutter, "Mon Dieu, you asshole, what'd you do that for?" I look away from the angelic person and focus on my books, one of which is my sketchbook that has all sorts of designs for clothes that I want to make someday, the majority of them being dresses. I look over at the person again and see that they were looking at me, and I smirk when I see a blush spread across their face, feeling my own face heat up slightly as well. 

"Ohhh... looks like someone has yet another crush that's going to inevitably be their downfall," I hear Ari say. "Well, looks like nature can take care of this on its own... bye bye now, you lonely fucker!" And, finally, she disappears. 

I make my way to class and, much to my delight, I see that the beautiful person is here too, and sitting in the back row, where I always sit. I make my way back there and sit in the seat next to them. I lay my head on the desk and draw my hood up above my head, making it look like I'm sleeping but really I'm just staring at the person. I know it's creepy, but I couldn't look away. Oh, mon Dieu, I sound like some stupid smitten schoolgirl in a Hallmark movie. I sigh, Ariana's right, there's no way this'll actually work. But... but they blushed when I saw them looking. Wait. They were looking. At me. 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝘆 were looking at 𝗺𝗲. So there's a chance... a small one, yes, but a chance. I'm making no sense, oh hell, just because someone looks at me, that doesn't mean they're attracted... I'm such an idiot. 

"Ms. d'Martin! Ms. Dubois! Are you with the rest of us?" The teacher, Mr. Rogers, calls to us. I only feel slightly embarrassed; this has happened before, multiple times. I look at the girl that the teacher called Ms. Dubois, and see her face go slightly pink but she says, a determined look on her face, "It's actually just Dubois, sir." Mr. Rogers looks confused, and says, "Pardon me?" The girl, or maybe not?, repeats, "Just Dubois, Mr. Rogers. Not Ms. or Mr. Just Dubois." I stopped paying attention. This person has enough confidence to correct a teacher on their pronouns? I wish I could do that... 

I'm whisked back to reality when I heard my name. I had caught brief bits of what the teacher had been saying, so I say, "I'm Elliot d'Martin. Please use he, him, and Mr." I noticed that the darkly angelic person's name is Willow Dubois, is genderfluid, and uses she/they/he pronouns, but mostly they. There were two other kids who had been misgendered and deadnamed, but I forgot their names and I haven't ever seen either of them. 

I'm just staring at Willow, and then they turn and look back at me. I don't back down, and neither do they. I only look away to tear a piece of paper out of one of my notebooks and write, "Why were you looking?" I fold it up and toss it at them, smirking. When they toss it back, I see that they wrote "Why were you?" I laugh to myself, they're avoiding the question. So will I, then. I erase the previous words and write "What lunch table do you sit at?" They seem slightly embarrassed when they read it, and they scribble something and toss it to me as the bell rings. I see that they wrote "Outcasts." I can see why they were embarrassed, but I don't care that they're one of those kids! Hell, I'm one too. I just want to get to know them better. I see that they turn around at the door, so I give a thumbs up and smile, being as awkward as possible. They just laugh and walk out. 

After I've packed up my things, I walk out as well. The next three classes go by with nothing interesting, but for fifth period, the school prince, literally, is in my class. Sinister Vasiliev, the Royalty Boy, as I like to call him. I've always wanted to be his friend, not only because he's rich and popular and the most handsome boy in the school, but because I know from experience that a book's cover isn't always an accurate depiction of what lies underneath. I notice him scribbling in a journal of sorts. Hmm.

The bell rings, and in the scramble for everyone to get to lunch, I'm left behind. I notice something on the floor. It's Sinister's journal. I pick it up and run out the door, searching for him so I can deliver his journal. I notice that I'm near the bathrooms, and before that fully registers in my mind, the door opens and out comes Sinister, eyes wide and red. 

His eyes land on the journal in my hand, and his eyes go even wider. "Don't worry, I didn't look in it, if that's what your worried about. You left it on the floor and I had noticed you writing in it earlier- that sounds creepy but it was just an observation- anyway, I wanted to give it back to you. So, here." I hold it out for him to take, but he just stands frozen. I just take his hand, open it, and put the book in it. He mumbles a "Thank you," sounding oddly choked up, and starts to walk away, but I say, "Hey, are you okay?" He stops, turns around, and instead of answering simply, he says, "No one's ever been so nice to me without it being because they want something from me. It's nice to be treated like an equal, not some prince who-" He stops, sniffling slightly but clearly trying to hide it. In a weird way, it was nice to see this vulnerable side. If I do everything right, it means I can earn his trust by not telling anyone about it. Maybe. Just maybe. Fuck, I'm sounding weird again. Mon Dieu, Eli.

He starts to walk away to lunch again, but I call after him yet again. "Sinister! Hold up!" I walk up to him and ask, "Would you maybe like to sit with me at lunch? If you aren't planning on sitting with anyone else, we could maybe just talk-" 

"Yes. Please." He sounds grateful, which makes me smile. "C'mon then. I'm meeting up with one other person. Their name is Willow, they seem nice. Maybe we could all get to know each other." He nods, and together we walk to the cafeteria. Like two friends, almost. 

𝙰/𝙽: 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚂𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛'𝚜 𝙿𝙾𝚅, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝙸 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘 𝚏𝚊𝚛! 

𝚀𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛: 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚎?

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟸,𝟼𝟻𝟶