ＤＥＳＩＲＥＥ

By seven that morning, Fictus Academy's High School Day was already in full swing. Students milled about the campus, their animated voices blending into a lively hum. Colorful banners and streamers hung between trees and poles, swaying gently in the morning breeze. Bright flags lined the walkway to the central courtyard, their vibrant colors fluttering with each gust of wind. The atmosphere buzzed with anticipation, mingling with the faint scent of fresh paint from the banners and the earthy undertones of dew on the grass.

I strode briskly through the courtyard, a clipboard clutched tightly in my hands. Franko followed close behind, continuing to regale some poor students with his wild, often nonsensical lines.

"No, seriously, the girl at the burger stand said I had the face of a true philosopher," he was saying, completely unaware of my exasperated sigh. "So I thought, hey, maybe I should start charging for my wisdom."

I shot him a look over my shoulder. "Go home, please. You're not helping me here."

He grinned, not in the slightest bit deterred. "I am helping. I'm boosting morale in your school. You can't put a price on that. Okay, you do your VP job now. Am gonna continue looking around."

Shaking my head, I muttered, "Again, behave yourself, please."

Franko winked at me before sauntering off toward a group of freshmen, likely plotting his next ridiculous bet. Despite my irritation, I couldn't suppress a small chuckle.

The event would officially begin in a minute, and, for the most part, things were running smoothly. Still, a knot of unease twisted in my stomach. I had a job to do, and there was no room for distractions.

As Vice President of the Student Council, I was responsible for overseeing the day's success. My clipboard weighed down with schedules and checklists, seemed heavier than usual.

"Desiree, we need to check the stage equipment before Principal Loring's speech," Ethan's voice broke through my thoughts.

"Already on it," I replied, gesturing to a stagehand for a final check on the microphones and lighting.

I cast a glance at the stage, a mixture of dread and curiosity bubbling within me.

Wallace's performance loomed closer, his unsettling words from our last encounter still echoing in my mind.

Against my better judgment, I wondered what he would sing and how much of his defiance would seep into his performance.

As the principal began his speech to kick off the event, my gaze swept across the crowd, landing inevitably on Wallace.

Seated near the back, he was surrounded by friends, his posture relaxed but commanding attention. He caught my eye, and in an instant, a knowing smirk danced across his lips. My cheeks grew warm, and I quickly looked away.

"Student Council, you're doing a fantastic job so far. Keep up the good work, okay?" Principal Loring's voice pulled me back to the task at hand.

"Yes, sir!" we replied in unison.

I forced a smile, but my mind was restless, tangled up in conflicting emotions. It was maddening. I couldn't let my guard down, not with Wallace's gaze flickering through my memory, piercing and intense.

The day unfolded in a whirlwind of activities. Students hopped from booths to games, laughter ringing through the courtyard. I coordinated with volunteers, addressed last-minute hiccups, and even paused to enjoy a few acts alongside the crowd.

The singing contest became the day's centerpiece, and as the final performances drew near, my nerves returned.

"I'll be singing at the contest tomorrow, will you be there?"

I pushed the thought of his voice away and turned my attention back to the crowd.

A trio of students stumbled onto the stage, one dressed as Olaf the snowman. Their off-key rendition of "Everything Makes Sense When I'm Older" prompted a mix of laughter and cheers from the audience. A boy in the crowd cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Go, Olaf!" earning an enthusiastic wave from the performer.

The next act was a group performing "Material Girl" by Madonna. One of the singers, dressed head-to-toe in glitter, strutted across the stage with exaggerated flair, much to the crowd's amusement.

I overheard a freshman nearby whispering, "Was this supposed to be serious?" before bursting into laughter.

It was unpolished, borderline cringe, yet oddly charming. Despite myself, I couldn't help but be entertained, even as my thoughts strayed back to the inevitable.

Then came Emily's group. She led her team onto the stage with an air of effortless confidence, her smile dazzling under the lights. Their medley of hits was polished, their harmonies flawless, and their choreography perfectly timed. The crowd clapped along, and even the teachers and judges seemed impressed. By the time they hit the high note in their final song, the audience erupted into loud applause.

As they exited, Emily's smug gaze flickered toward Audrey, who stood off to the side clutching her sheet music. A sly smirk tugged at Emily's lips as she whispered something to her friends, their laughter muffled but unmistakable.

I noticed how Wallace leaned beside Audrey and whispered something, likely offering encouragement.

The sight of him seemed to stop Emily in her tracks. Her gaze flickered from Audrey to Wallace, and whatever teasing she had planned, she wisely kept it to herself. Her group sauntered past, their confidence radiating like the glitter on their outfits.

Finally, as their name was announced, the crowd quieted instantly, an unspoken testament to his presence. Audrey took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders, walking onto the stage as Wallace followed, guitar in hand.

My heart thudded as he scanned the audience, his gaze eventually finding mine. His lips curved into that familiar, knowing smirk, and I swallowed hard.

The first notes of the song floated into the air, soft and tender. Wallace's voice carried vulnerability, each word weaving through Audrey's delicate piano accompaniment.

"I can read your mind and I know your story. I see what you're going through, yeah..."

The melody swept through the crowd, each note achingly raw. Wallace's voice carried a tenderness I hadn't anticipated, its power drawing me in, making it impossible to look away. His eyes shifted toward me again, and I felt exposed, as though he could see straight past my carefully constructed walls.

I wanted to look away, to distance myself, but the lyrics sank into me, wrapping around emotions I'd long tried to bury. Each line felt like a quiet confession, speaking to the version of me that I kept hidden, the girl who was tired of living by everyone's expectations, the girl who once dreamed.

"When you want it the most, there's no easy way out..."

The song wasn't wild or loud, it wasn't the kind of rock anthem or rebellious song I was used to listening to. But something gentler, a song that seeped into the bones, urging you to listen. Each note held a quiet strength, each word a vulnerability that felt achingly raw.

His voice felt like a hand reaching out to me, urging me to confront my fears. And as he continued, something cracked inside me, one I hadn't allowed myself to feel in years. My throat tightened and my chest ached.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I fought to keep them at bay.

"So don't surrender 'cause you can win in this thing called love..."

The song's last note faded into the air, leaving the crowd momentarily breathless before applause thundered through the auditorium. But the world felt muted and distant.

My hands trembled, and a tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it.

Wallace's gaze found mine once more, steady and unyielding. His expression was unreadable, yet somehow gentle, and in that moment, I felt seen. Not as the dutiful council officer or the perfect daughter, but as me. And Wallace, up there in front of everyone, had shown me a strength I hadn't known I needed.

And in that silent exchange, I felt the tiniest hint of strength, a spark that whispered, Maybe.

As the applause swelled, I allowed myself a small, genuine smile, a quiet acknowledgment of a boy who dared to see beyond the mask.

๋࣭ °࣪ ִ⭑․𓃠⭒˚.• ݁

𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𓂃 𓈒⚝

The first week of school settled into a soft, lingering anticipation, the kind that made the air feel heavier and the walls of Fictus Academy's main building almost seemed to hold their breath. It was as if everything, every corridor, every corner had been waiting for something to happen. The tall windows caught the morning light in golden ribbons, the sunlight slanting down to pool on the polished floor, where shadows shifted with the quiet rush of students. It was early, and the halls were still, save for the distant echo of hurried footsteps and the occasional creak of a door closing.

At the top of the wide staircase stood a girl, her posture tense as she glanced at the clock on the wall. She was late. The school's warning bell had rung minutes ago, and the silence that followed told her everyone else was already seated. Yet here she stood, hesitating at the top of the stairs, lost in thought.

The sound of footsteps echoed up the stairs—quick and almost frantic. A boy appeared at the foot of the stairs, his movements hurried while his head dipped low, face partially obscured by headphones that pulsed faintly with a deep bass of music only he could hear. His phone buzzed in his grip, notifications flashing across the screen as he navigated the stairwell, completely absorbed. Quickening his pace, he didn't notice the girl standing just a few steps above him.

And then, in his haste, they collided.

The impact came with the force of surprise. The girl gasped, stumbling as her feet wobbled on the edge of the top step. The world tilted for a split second, spinning as she fought to regain her balance. Then, a strong, steady hand caught her so suddenly, it felt like the wind itself had swept in, preventing what could have been a nasty fall.

His grip was firm and warm, sweeping her into his arms in a graceful dip.

Time seemed to stretch, the world around them blurring, as if the universe itself had slowed for just this moment. The soft rustle of leaves outside mingled with the faint hum of a summer wind, carrying the scent of earth and warmth as it played through their hair. Their gazes locked in suspended silence, an unspoken connection flickering between them like a fleeting glance of sunlight through a canopy of trees.

For a long beat, neither of them spoke. His breath came in quick, sharp exhales, his eyes still wide from the suddenness of the moment. Then, his voice broke through, tinged with exasperation.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he snapped, running a hand through his messy hair, clearly frustrated by the interruption. 

He turned his body slightly, trying to shake off the tension in his posture. He was late too, and this delay wasn't helping.

She blinked, still dazed, but slowly the heat of embarrassment began to seep into her skin. The moment stretched, leaving her scrambling for words. But before she could form a coherent response, her eyes caught something on the floor. A faintly crumpled envelope, its edges bent from the collision. It was pale and neat, except for the single footprint that marred its surface.

The boy noticed it too. With an irritated sigh, he bent down and snatched it up. Without hesitation, he tore the envelope open, ripping the delicate paper apart, the pieces fluttering to the floor like broken petals.

The wind teased the scraps, making them dance, swirling and spinning in the air like fragile butterflies caught in a gentle breeze. 

She watched in disbelief as the remnants scattered, a strange, disjointed fluttering in her chest.

The boy glanced at her, his face tight with frustration. 

"Now, tell me," he demanded, his voice still edged with impatience. His eyes were searching hers, the irritation written across his face like an open book.

Still stunned, she managed only a confused frown. "Tell you... what?"

He raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into something that almost resembled a sneer.

"Are you dumb?" His voice held an edge of superiority, but there was something underneath it—a defensiveness she couldn't quite place.

"I'm giving you a chance to confess to me right now."

She couldn't immediately respond, still too rattled by the unexpected collision and the now-ruined letter. It wasn't just any letter. But now, she understood what he was assuming.

His voice grew louder with disdain. "I really hate receiving stupid love letters like this."

He motioned to the shredded paper at their feet.

"So instead of wasting my time with something like that, just say it to my face. Because I'm never going to read it."

For a long moment, she just stood there, fighting the tide of amusement that began to bubble up. His words were ridiculous—outrageously so. 

Slowly, she bent down and picked up a single scrap of paper, the faded remnants of an official letterhead peeking out from the jagged edge. Holding it up for him to see, she couldn't suppress a small chuckle.

"Actually," she said, her voice quiet but confident, "this wasn't a love letter." 

She let the words sink in, a gentle tease, "It was an invitation from a university. You know, the kind of thing people usually don't tear to pieces."

His eyes widened, and at that moment, he looked almost embarrassed. His cocky expression faltered, the arrogance draining from his face as the realization hit. He glanced at the scattered paper, his eyes wide, and then back to her, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for the right words.

Hidden in the shadows of the staircase, someone watched the exchange, a soft smile tugging at the corners of their lips. The scene felt almost too perfect, too much like something out of a story that had yet to be written. 

The boy, now sheepish and unsure, looked utterly out of place in this fragile moment, while the girl seemed to hold all the power, her smile both knowing and kind.

As the silence stretched, she reached down and picked up his phone and headphones, holding them out to him. But as his fingers brushed against them, she pulled something from her pocket.

A crinkled candy wrapper. Three brightly colored candies, glistening like little gems, caught the light as she offered them to him.

"Sometimes," she said softly, her tone warm and unguarded, "a bit of sweetness is all it takes to make a bitter moment okay."

She placed the candies into his hand with a smile that was all softness, and before he could react, she turned, her steps light as she descended the staircase. The sound of her heels echoed softly against the polished wood, leaving him standing there, alone with his pride and the torn pieces of paper at his feet.

The observer, still hidden in the shadows, exhaled a breath they hadn't realized they were holding. Their heart raced with unexpected excitement as the scene played out before them. They couldn't help but wonder if the two were destined for each other. The thought floated through their mind unbidden, unsettling but oddly fitting.

Maybe they are, the observer mused, finally turning away from the stairwell. Maybe they are.

☀༉‧

So...😗

What did you think of Wallace's song choice?🎶

And how do you think Desiree will handle it when everything she's worked so hard to suppress begins to unravel?

Most importantly, what did you think of their first meeting?

I poured my heart into writing it and hope it felt as 𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗰 as I dreamed it would be 😭🙏

__melodyshhh 𓇢𓆸