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The library was a sanctuary of whispers and muted rustling, its quiet elegance shaped by high vaulted ceilings and rows of towering shelves. Late afternoon light spilled through the tall arched windows, painting the space in amber hues. The scent of aging books mingled with the faint, sterile tang of floor polish. Students were scattered at wooden tables, their hushed voices blending with the rhythmic scratch of pens and the occasional creak of chairs.

I settled into my usual corner, the worn leather chair offering a familiar cocoon. Before me, my notebook lay open, its pages half-filled with neat, slanted writing. But the words blurred as my thoughts wandered, carried by the memory of Wallace's earlier smirk. That infuriatingly self-assured smile of his had a way of unraveling my composure.

Why had he been so present lately? His lingering stares and teasing comments, it was unlike him, or perhaps I had just been blind to it before.

From across the room, I could feel his gaze, a quiet heat that drew my attention against my will. He was seated with Audrey at a table by the window, the sunlight catching the undertones in his dark blonde hair. His posture was relaxed, but every so often, his eyes flitted toward me, and my stomach twisted in a way I couldn't quite name.

Get a grip, Desiree.

I forced myself to focus, flipping through my notes with more determination than I felt. The steady rhythm of my pen against paper became a distraction, grounding me until the sound of approaching footsteps shattered my fragile concentration.

Wallace

I didn't need to look up. His presence was unmistakable, a subtle charge in the air that set my nerves on edge.

"Need help with something?" I asked without lifting my gaze, my voice carefully detached.

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, before pulling out the chair across from me.

"Maybe."

I looked up, and there it was, that smile. The one that seemed to hold a thousand secrets and none at all. He leaned back, his movements fluid and deliberate, as if he knew the weight of my attention.

His eyes flicked around the room before returning to me.

"Where's your shadow?"

"What?"

"Franko," he clarified with a smirk. "That friend of yours."

I gave him a smile, refusing to take the bait. "In class. And you? Don't you have class right now?"

"Skipped it. Mr. Dunbar's boring."

"So, why are you here?"

He grinned, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table.

"You make it sound like I'm not wanted."

"What do you want, Wallace?" I sighed, feigning disinterest though my pulse quickened under his steady gaze.

"I've been thinking," he said, his tone dropping. "About earlier. With Jaclyn."

I raised an eyebrow, bracing myself. "And?"

"And," he continued, his voice teasing, "I think you're getting soft."

I narrowed my eyes, ready to retort, but he cut me off with a laugh that made my stomach flip.

"You know," he added, leaning closer, "I kind of liked it."

The air between us thickened, his proximity unsettling yet magnetic. My fingers tightened around my pen as I straightened, determined to regain the upper hand. 

"If you're fishing for gratitude, don't hold your breath."

His laugh was softer this time, a quiet rumble that sent a shiver down my spine. 

"No, Des. But maybe you should think about what I want in return."

My lips parted, a retort forming, but the words dissolved when he leaned in closer, his voice a low murmur. 

"You'll find out. When the time's right."

It was unbearable, the way he could unnerve me with so little effort. The way he seemed to pull the ground from beneath me, leaving me weightless and unsure.

Before I could stop myself, I stood abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor.

"Come with me."

His expression flickered with surprise, but he followed without question as I led him toward the fire exit.

The door closed behind us with a soft thud, the muted sounds of the library fading away. I released his wrist, turning to face him in the dimly lit stairwell.

Wallace chuckled, smirking. 

"Des, if you wanted to fuck me, you should've just told me. No need for these dramatics. But if you want to do it in the fire exit, I'm not complaining—"

"Don't." I cut him off, my voice sharper than intended.

Wallace smirked, his hands finding their way to my waist.

He pulled me closer, his lips hovering dangerously close to my neck as he buried his face in my skin.

"You're impossible to resist, you know that?"

His lips brushed against my skin, a fleeting touch that left me breathless. My body betrayed me with a soft gasp, and his low chuckle told me he'd noticed.

Did he just kiss my neck?

Wallace hummed, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking, his thumb stroked my hip.

"Wallace, what are you doing?" I managed, stepping back and placing my hands on his chest. My heart pounded as his gaze held mine, dark and knowing.

His lips were slightly wet, glistening from the kiss, and I couldn't help but stare at them. They were pink and full, and I wondered what they would taste like.

No, Desiree!!

"I have a proposal," I said, keeping my voice even. "You want Jaclyn to stop targeting Audrey? I can make that happen."

He frowned, suspicion clouding his features. 

"Why would you do that?"

"I don't help for free," I replied smoothly. "But I think we can strike a deal."

His eyes narrowed, calculating. "What kind of deal?"

"Simple. You owe me a favor. No questions asked."

He leaned against the door, crossing his arms as he studied me. The tension between us was almost palpable, a silent battle of wills.

"Fine," he said at last, a smirk curving his lips. "I'll agree."

Well, I thought I had to convince him more...

"Good," I said. "I'll take care of Jaclyn. And don't worry, I'll call in my favor when the time is right."

The fire exit door swung open behind us as we returned to the library. I refused to look at him, but his presence was a constant, undeniable force beside me. 

My fingers itched to touch the spot on my neck where his lips had lingered, but I resisted.

Control. I needed to stay in control.

๋࣭ °࣪ ִ⭑․𓃠⭒˚.• ݁

The door's creak echoed faintly as I slipped inside, the sound swallowed by the musty stillness of the forgotten room. It smelled faintly of stale air and chalk dust, layered with an acidic undertone from long-abandoned chemicals. 

The room bore the telltale scars of its past life. A broken microscope perched precariously on a tilted table, anatomy posters peeling at the edges, and rows of shelves sagging under jars of murky liquids that seemed to watch me with cloudy, glassy eyes.

This was my sanctuary.

In this unused corner of the Academy, I could breathe, if only for a while. The dim light filtering through narrow windows streaked with grime painted the space in amber hues, softening the room's decay. Shadows crept across the floor, claiming the gaps between the scattered desks. 

Out there, the chaos of the school day still clung to the fading voices in the hallway. But in here, comforting silence reigned, a weighted blanket I willingly let settle over me.

I glanced at my wristwatch. 5:05 p.m. 

Most students were gone by now, rushing to catch rides or lose themselves in their afterschool dramas. I envied their certainty, their easy rhythms, but I didn't begrudge them their simplicity. 

For me, the quiet after the storm was solace enough.

Crossing to the corner, I eased into the rickety chair tucked behind a desk that bore carvings of initials and half-finished doodles, etched by hands long since departed. From my bag, I pulled out my laptop and opened it. 

The screen's glow illuminated my face, its stark brightness almost jarring against the muted warmth of the room. My fingers hovered briefly over the keyboard before plunging in, words spilling out faster than I could think them through.

Alyssa's voice guided me, sharp yet faltering, every line imbued with her confusion and defiance. She was suffocating, trapped in a cage of someone else's making, and I poured into her every unspoken word I couldn't say myself.

"Do you even see me, or am I just a ghost in this life you've made for me? Am I your creation or my own? I don't know where you end and I begin anymore..."

The words flowed like water breaking free of a dam, each one a jagged piece of the truths I dared not claim aloud. I lost myself in the rhythm of the keys, the faint click-clack drowning out the distant thrum of my heartbeat. Time dissolved. My reality shrank to this corner of the world, where I was allowed—no, needed—to be someone else for a while.

Then, the faint echo of footsteps shattered the cocoon of my focus.

I froze mid-keystroke, the sound sharp and unwelcome in the sanctuary's sacred stillness. My chest tightened as I turned toward the door. The handle twisted. Panic jolted through me, and my fingers flew to the laptop's lid, ready to slam it shut.

Wallace stood in the doorway, framed by the dim light spilling in from the hall. His surprise mirrored my own, his brows lifting slightly as his gaze settled on me.

"What are you doing here?" I snapped, the words out before I could rein them in. 

The sharpness in my tone was a reflex, a shield against the vulnerability coursing through me. My pulse raced, pounding in my ears as I straightened, trying to appear unaffected. But my hands gripped the edge of the laptop so tightly that my knuckles turned white.

Wallace tilted his head, the barest hint of a smile playing at his lips. He took a single step inside, his sneakers kicking up a small cloud of dust. 

"I could ask you the same thing," he said, his voice casual, too casual. 

His eyes roamed the room, taking in the forgotten relics of its past, but when they returned to me, there was something in his gaze that set my nerves on edge.

"How did you find this place?" My voice faltered slightly, betraying the fragile control I was clinging to. 

This room wasn't just a hiding spot, it was a piece of me, a space that knew my secrets even if it couldn't speak them aloud. The thought of someone else intruding on it—on me—was unbearable.

Suspicion crept into my mind. 

Had he been watching me? 

No, that was impossible. I'd been careful. No one ever came down this hallway.

"Since when do you wander into unused classrooms?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him. 

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his smile widening just a fraction. 

"I didn't know you had a thing for abandoned rooms," he teased, though there was something beneath his words, something that made me feel like he knew more than he was letting on.

"Stay out of my business," I snapped, slamming the laptop shut with a little more force than necessary. 

I stood up, my posture stiff, trying to assert control of the situation. My pulse quickened, and I was already calculating how I could spin this if he decided to use it against me.

For a moment, I had expected him to laugh or make some snide comment, but he didn't. He just watched me, his expression softening, like he was seeing something he wasn't supposed to. I hated it. I hated how vulnerable I felt under his gaze.

"I didn't mean to intrude," he said after a pause, his voice quieter now. He stepped further into the room, his eyes flickering to the laptop in my hands. 

"But... were you writing?"

My stomach twisted, but I forced myself to respond. 

"Just leave."

Wallace didn't budge. Instead, he glanced at the dust-covered tables and the abandoned science equipment. 

"Looks like no one else knows about this place either," he mused. "You've got yourself a nice little corner of the world."

I didn't respond, my guard still firmly in place, though a part of me wondered why he wasn't pushing harder. He was just... talking, like this wasn't the most dangerous secret he'd stumbled across in weeks.

He moved a little closer, still keeping his distance, but there was something about the way he was watching me now. 

It wasn't judgment or arrogance. It was something else. 

"It's more than just a hobby, isn't it?"

His words caught me off guard, and I flinched inwardly. 

How did he know? 

My fingers tightened around the edge of the laptop, holding it against me like a shield. I couldn't let him see the truth.

"It's none of your concern," I said, trying to sound dismissive, but there was a tremor in my voice that I couldn't hide. 

He didn't push further. 

Instead, he leaned back against one of the dusty tables, his arms crossed again, watching me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. 

"I'm not here to use anything against you," he said, his tone sincere, which only made me more uneasy.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. 

His calm demeanor was disarming, and it was getting harder to maintain my distance. I glanced at the door, considering just leaving and shutting him out, but something held me back. 

Maybe it was the way he was looking at me, like he actually cared. Like he wasn't just trying to pry into my secrets for the sake of it.

"Writing... it's the only way I can express myself," I admitted, the words slipping out before I could stop them. My voice was quiet, almost too quiet. 

I immediately regretted saying it, but there was no taking it back now.

I didn't know why I said it. I shouldn't have. But something about this moment—about Wallace standing there, not pushing, not judging—made it feel almost safe to say the words I'd buried for so long.

My hands shook a little as I spoke, the vulnerability settling over me like a weight. 

"It's the only place I can be me."

Wallace's expression softened even more, there was no teasing or smugness in his eyes, just understanding. 

"I get that," he said softly.

The sincerity in his voice took me by surprise. Right then, he seemed... genuine.

The tension between us lingered in the air, and I couldn't decide if I wanted to push him away or let him stay. 

It was dangerous, letting someone like him see this side of me. But at the same time, there was a strange comfort in knowing that maybe, just maybe, he understood.

I looked down and closed my eyes tightly. 

"Don't tell anyone," I whispered, my voice barely audible. 

The vulnerability in my words felt like a betrayal, but I needed to say it. I needed to know I could trust him, even if it was just for that moment. 

"Please..."

The room felt smaller with Wallace standing that close to me. My back was still pressed against the table, my laptop lying forgotten beside me. The tension between us was palpable, crackling like static in the air. 

I should move, say something—anything—to break the intensity of the moment, but his presence pinned me in place.

"Open your eyes," he said softly, stepping closer. 

His voice was low and rough, like gravel over silk. His tone, usually teasing, now held a serious edge that made my heart race.

I clenched my jaw, resisting, but when he called me something else in that deep, commanding voice, something in me obeyed.

"My Desire, open your eyes."

I opened my eyes, lifting them reluctantly to meet his.

Our gazes locked, and I couldn't look away. 

His pupils were dark, the edges of his irises soft and warm, as if he was seeing something in me that no one else could.

I watched as he swallowed, his Adam's apple rising and falling in a slow, deliberate motion. Then I felt his hands on my waist in a firm grip, grounding and steady. My skin burned beneath his touch even through the fabric of my clothes.

Wallace's eyes never left mine as he reached up and picked up a loose strand of my hair, twirling it slowly around his fingers. It was an intimate gesture, but his face remained unreadable. 

The room felt too small, too close, with his body pressing lightly against mine. His breath, cool and sharp with peppermint, brushed across my face. 

I swallowed, feeling trapped in a moment I didn't know how to escape.

The silence between us stretched until he shifted on his feet, bending slightly so that his face was level with mine. 

"I'm not going to tell anyone," he said, nodding toward the closed laptop. 

His voice was firmer now, insistent, but there was a gentleness in the way he spoke like he was trying to reassure me.

I searched his eyes, looking for any sign of a lie, any indication that he was playing me, but all I saw was sincerity. 

My shoulders relaxed just a fraction, and I released a quiet sigh. 

"I'll do whatever you want," I said, my voice smaller than I intended. "Just please... don't tell anyone."

He didn't move, but the corner of his lips curled slightly. There was something dangerous in his eyes, something that sent a shiver through me.

"My desire," he murmured, his voice dipping even lower, almost a whisper. 

"I don't think you could handle what I want."

☀༉‧

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