A LITTLE DEATH, rigel wilde

𝐈𝐕

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━━ Time went at its own weird rate, and when the leaves fell off the branches, the birds fled south to warmer climes. The days at the boarding school were filled with sorrow, but in the last few days, a working mood prevailed.

The boarding school commemorates its founding anniversary in seven days, arranging a day in which everything revolves around us. There are no courses during the day, but there are some performances, and anyone interested can help in various parts until the evening. In the evening, dinner is served, followed by dance.

This is a significant occasion, thus preparations begin much earlier to ensure that everything is completed on time.

The trial of Anna Karenina did not end on schedule. Rigel and I had not spoken since that night in his room. We exchanged stares, long, brief, unpleasant, and angry. He drove me insane. I knew him well enough to know how much he relished it. Let us play cat and mouse.

I still was not sure if that drawing was his or if it had been left on my bed accidentally.

While in the women's locker room, I was listening to some girls expertly providing advise on various topics, and I tried to focus as little as possible on those who were discussing him. It's true that Rigel was never a playboy who went around hunting for girls for one-night stands or casual relationships. He maintained a good reputation.

It is also true that numerous girls sought to seduce him and win him over with provocative clothing, at parties, and wherever else they could. It simply did not work.

Valeria usually tried to engage me in such chats, but I managed to avoid them. The three of us sat on the bench (Lucia was just ten minutes late for physical education) and discussed the approaching dance.

Lucia instantly began twitching her brows and commenting on how she knew who was going to invite me to dance. Unfortunately, there were little possibilities. Damian Lillard has been trying to ask me to the dance for a week, but something (or someone) constantly gets in the way.

"Don't reject him," Lucia told me sharply. "Then all three of us will have an escort and be able to sit at the same table," she says, sparking her fantasy of the ideal schooling and ceremony.

"Let us ride the magic carpet into the sunset..." I join her sarcastically, to Valeria's laughter.

"I think Grace is waiting for Mr. Perfect," Valeria says when she finally stops giggling. The three of us were shortly joined by Damian, who came to check on us before the second half of volleyball began.

"I hope they put a rose in your locker after this class," Lucia adds. Lucia was the romantic soul of all of us, hovering above everyone and interpreting even the simplest gesture as a sign of like, love... While it appeared that the two of us were not up to it, we were being realistic.

His body movement was too fluid; he frequently touched my hands and hugged me. During those movements, all I could feel was someone is stare searing my body. Damn it, it gets under my skin every day.

The professor signaled the end of class, and we all marched in a column to the changing rooms, where some girls had already located their rose. Lucia enthusiastically encourages me to open it.
"I got a rose in mine, and I know who it is from," she says happily. Valeria opened her locker and discovered two flowers inside. It was my time next, as much as I hate events like this.

I opened the metal cabinet and a black rose dropped out; I was immediately seeking for their reactions because I had no idea how to act after this.

"Mysterious," Valeria exclaimed.

"I did not know Damian had it in him," Luica says. An inner voice told me it was someone else. This was not Damian's style.

I dashed out of the dressing room with the rose and made my way to a less-well-kept corner of the yard. The smoke emerging from behind the wall confirmed that he was there. Rigel, precisely who I was hoping for.

I tossed a rose into his lap as he carefully glanced up at me; he simply adored analyzing every part of me, especially when I was standing in front of him in a skirt.

I asked him, "What is this?!"

"Rose," he replies quickly as he puts out his cigar on a stone. "I know what a rose is, where did you get the idea to put it in my locker?" In my imagination, I sound like a rage-filled person, and it is not real because Rigel Wilde is grinning in my face as he gradually rises from the concrete he is on. His gaze is fixated on my; "you wished I had put her in the locker, you seem so... obsessed with me," he says gently.

"Do not manipulate me now," I warned him.
He let out a quick laugh again. "Or, what? Nothing, like last time?" He licks his lips with his tongue, his eyes returning to my face.

"I will take it like you are obsessed with me," I smile in his face before quickly turning and leaving him outside alone. It was evident that Rigel Wilde was injecting poisons into my veins, and he was the lethal poison with no antidotes. I was not sure I wanted to get out of here without the poison.

The black rose symbolizes obsession, the rough path of love.

Damian was sprinting around the yard, as if hunting for someone, and when he noticed me, he approached me, out of breath. "I finally found you," he wiped sweat from his brow. "I asked you to give you this," he said, pulling out a white rose from behind. A smile has suddenly appeared on my face.

"I hope you will join me on Saturday for the dance," he adds nervously, kissing my cheek.

A white rose symbolizes serene love.