Word Count: 2883

  Martius 15

  My eyes wander aimlessly around the dorm room as I push Sebastian's pillow under my chin.

  Next to me, my blonde companion lounges on his bedsheets. His mplight casts a warm glow over an aged copy of Shakespeare's King Lear as we work together to decipher its dense old English.

  It's te night but we don't mind.

  Reading the hour away together, we work on our Literature Css discussion papers and await Finn's return from detention. Of course when we hear the sound of Finn's loafers coming down the hallway, Sebastian and I always split up and one of us has to retreat to their side of the room.

  It's safer that way.

  Both Sebastian and I worry that if the guys found out we're together, they might—intentionally or not—let my secret slip. Even though both Finn and Lucas have promised me separately that they'll stay quiet, it's better not to take chances. Even more now, since my time at the academy is dwindling with each passing day.

  I watch Sebastian pen down his thoughts on the passage we're on. Resting my head on my hands I close my eyes, sink into the bed, and listen quietly to his breathing. He's mumbling to himself, biting the end of the pen the way he does when he's trying to puzzle his way out of something confusing. My head's been making little notes on all the little things he does and doesn't notice. It's beautiful how seeing someone so often can make you truly appreciate how special they are.

  His muffled voice pulls me back to reality, and I blink up at Sebastian, who's waiting expectantly for my response.

  "What were you saying?" I ask sheepishly.

  He lets out a sound somewhere between a ugh and a sigh.

  "Come on, listen, Camille."

  Sebastian closes the book in front of us, deciding to start a new topic but he doesn't say anything at first when he looks at me. Using his index finger, he absentmindedly pushes a stray strand of hair out of my eyes and I look away trying not to blush.

  Smiling softly, Sebastian now looks me in the eye and gives my cheek a gentle tug.

  "You know that you keep asking me what you should want in life, but I'm not the one who can decide that. You have to figure it out on your own."

  'Oh, so this is the new topic he chose.'

  I plop my head back down and gnce away, "Hm."

  "If I wasn't here or... let's say that there was no one else in this world, what would you do?" he prods.

  I wrinkle my nose, "Can I imagine you there?"

  "It's just a hypothetical," Sebastian ughs.

  I smile but I don't respond. As the silence envelops us, I watch as he slowly sighs, gets up, and takes our half-written essays to put them on his desk.

  Watching him move, a twinge of sadness settles in my chest. Though I've broken countless rules during my time with Sebastian, this one always felt like facing an immovable mountain. Every time he tries to urge me to think creatively, I can hear Father's voice cwing at the back of my mind like a whip.

  A sentence is all my head needs, 'Tools have no need for desires.'

  And just like that, the mental block returns and we'd be back at ground zero. It's been this way for the past three weeks, ever since Sebastian and I began 'not knowing' together.

  He bends down next to me, kneeling on the hardwood beside the bed before pulling out his pager, "Anyway, I think the package I requested from home finally arrived. I got a notification."

  He moves away from the side of bed.

  "Let me go grab it," Sebastian says, slipping on his loafers. "You keep... being you, I guess."

  He tousles my hair affectionately before walking away.

  As the door closes behind him, I sink deeper into his covers and my gaze drifts to the bed above where Finn sleeps. The rows of its foundations are all lined up in an elegant little array.

  "It was easier when life was neat like that," I mutter as I trace the metal frame with the tips of my fingers. "But that doesn't mean it was better."

  I gnce over at Sebastian's desk, our essays pressed together like they were meant to be written side-by-side and I can hardly stop myself from smiling.

  'This... this is better.'

  My pager suddenly buzzes and my heart jumps within my chest as I fumble to pick it up.

  Only one person contacts me this way.

  I can feel my anxiety mounting as I confirm my fears, 'Another message from Mother!'

  My hands tremble slightly even though I know there should be no reason for this level of nerves. It's unwarranted. There's nothing major left to execute this te in the pn.

  And yet, it feels as though if I reply right now, she'd be able to peer into my soul through the electronic device that I hold. Peer in and see something in me that has changed.

  Squeezing my arm and closing my eyes I carefully calm myself with deep breaths before opening them again and picking up the pager.

  As I spend the next ten minutes deciphering the code I find that she's said, 'Vernal Break Is Arriving. When Will You Come?'

  I let out a shaky sigh. I'm gd she hasn't found my ck of correspondence concerning.

  ...At least not yet.

  Before I can form a response, Sebastian walks back into the room carrying a package much rger than I expected. It's so tall that it reaches up to my hip.

  He slides next to me and cheekily says, "Drumroll!"

  Sitting up from the sheets, I oblige him as I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

  "This package is actually-!" He passes it into my hands. "For you."

  I stare at the box in my hands in shock.

  My heart warms and I can't contain my grin.

  "This is my first time receiving a gift."

  As I open up the box fps gingerly, I can feel jade eyes focus on me as they wait to capture my expression.

  Slowly, I bring out a pack of paints. The primary colors of magenta, yellow, and cyan slosh around inside the tubes with the addition of a few extra that sit at the bottom of the bag.

  I'm not sure what to say as I observe them curiously.

  Helping me out, he takes multiple bnk canvases out of the box along with an easy-set up easel that he pces by the window. I sit on the desk chair he moved next to the easel and at the end he pces a small beret on my head which I ugh at.

  "There, now you're perfect. Modern day Monet," he decres, rubbing his chin with his hand as he steps back to admire his work.

  I look at the brush and then gnce towards the clear cup of water to my side of the desk. Moving across the bed, he turns on the night mp and the white canvas glows an inviting orange.

  "Thank you, Sebastian. But, why paint?" I ask, carefully lifting the beret off and holding it gently in my hands.

  "Why not? I want you to look at the bnk paper and draw whatever comes to mind," he replies. "Maybe if you paint how you feel, it'll be easier to figure out what you actually want."

  "Nice theory," I tease him with a grin.

  He bows with exaggerated fir, "I'm incredibly gifted in Camille research, as you can see."

  This time I can't help but roll my eyes before turning to the canvas.

  I thought it would be easy to start painting, but I find that the bnkness of the fabric stares back at me evenly.

  I realize that I'm not sure what to say to it. I don't know what it wants from me.

  My eyes drift toward the window. I would ask the sun, but it's asleep right now.

  Only the moon remains and the moon is as stoic as Father.

  Minutes tick by, and after half an hour Sebastian unknowingly falls asleep against his bed frame. Another half hour goes by and Finn walks in with his eyes closed as he sleepwalks his way to his bed before colpsing into a deep dream.

  The canvas stares at me. I stare back.

  Words I usually only say in my head find themselves tumbling out from my mouth, "What if I mess you up? You're already pretty the way you are now. What could I offer to make you nicer?"

  The white canvas whispers, "Right now, I'm empty. And empty is nice. But I ck something deeper. Something true. I ck love."

  I scoff to myself, "What would I know about love?"

  "Don't you love the boy?"

  I shift in my seat, "I enjoy Sebastian. I still don't know what love truly is."

  The canvas stays adamant, undeterred by my doubt, "Show me the little you do know. Maybe I will learn how to love from it."

  My heart meditates on its words.

  I run my finger over its soft grooves, "If I ruin your emptiness, promise not to be upset."

  And the canvas promises.

  Under the watchful gaze of the moon, I dip my brush into the water, then the red, and begin to paint. A swatch down the center first. Then a swirl to the side. A dot of fresh color yered atop the red beneath.

  It's exciting, I feel my fingers glide as I pour myself into a picture I never realized existed inside me. So I paint and I paint until the entire canvas is brimming with color. Emotions swirl within me and I can't decide whether to smile or frown, but even the in-between feels right. As the hours slip by, my body finally grows weary from the canvas' request and I succumb to the night like my peers. Yet, the canvas' voice still carries to my ears as my bnkets overtake me.

  Martius 16

  When I wake in the morning, I see Sebastian hovering over the painting. He gently pushes me to stir me from my drowsiness. I reflexively gnce over to Finn but it seems that he's still fast asleep from yesterday's escapades.

  "So this is what you ended up making, huh?" he mumbles with a small smile at the corner of his mouth.

  As the morning light spills into the room, I look at the painting with fresh eyes.

  In the center of the canvas, framed by swirls of gray, is a small girl kneeling. She's young, her hands gripping a pstic rose so tightly that her palms have gone white. Her eyes are squeezed shut as if she's praying while her face holds an expression so woefully desperate and mournful that just looking at it makes me feel like needles are pricking my heart. The rose. It's her only hope.

  I thought I had used all of my palette but the only color outside of the gray hues is the red rose and its green stem. The girl is me. At least that's what the image is supposed to be. I'm not sure if the painfully archaic strokes really look like inspiration at all, but Sebastian seems to be pleased anyway.

  "Is that you?" he asks, sitting down to appreciate the painting.

  "Yes," I reply, sitting up from my bed.

  "It's weird seeing you with long hair and a dress," he comments as he pushes the tips of his fingers over the dried sides of the canvas. "Do you want that again?"

  Though he believes he's being subtle, I can tell he's hoping I'll say something that gives away how I want to express myself. I want to indulge him though, I think I can today.

  "I... wouldn't mind a dress," I say.

  He grins, "Then I'll get you a dress!"

  "I'm undercover, Sebastian," I ugh.

  "You won't be undercover forever. I'll get you a dress," he replies, obstinately.

  He steps closer, poking my face until I can't help but crack a smile. But even as I smile and poke him back, my heart doesn't feel any lighter. Instead, my thoughts keep drifting back to Mother and her words. A heaviness settles in my chest as I watch him hold my hand.

  "Sebastian..." I murmur, my voice faltering.

  "Hm?" He looks down, his expression softening as he tries to meet my gaze again.

  "I'm ready to tell you about why I'm here."

  He catches the serious tone in my voice and leans back to sit down on the thin carpet in the middle of our room. I follow quietly, heart beating fast against my will because this would truly be my first act of treason against my family. My eyes trace the furs of the rug beneath us trying to muster up the courage to have the details leave my mouth.

  Watching me, he pces a hand on my shoulder and squeezes it gently, "I don't care if we're waiting here until the next Ice Age. Take your time because I'm not going anywhere."

  I let out a short ugh and wipe the tears trickling from my eyes.

  'Tools have no need for desi-'

  I stop the mantra in its tracks.

  Father isn't here. Sebastian is.

  And the words finally leave my mouth, "Damien is dead."

  They fall out as if they've never been spoken before. Sebastian's eyes widen in shock, and it's as if a dam has broken. I tell him everything—Father's death, Mother's deteriorating mind, the shift in my life, my arrival here, my mission. I can't stop myself as I pour out my time in that house, my suffering, the celr.

  Like the perfect audience, his face twists with each new reveal in a symphony of surprise, disgust, and pity, but mostly with a quiet trust lingering beneath it all.

  When I finally fall silent, I can't bring myself to meet his eyes. Would knowing the truth—how I stepped on every rule known in Aurelia-Fields for this desperate gambit—change how he feels about me?

  His voice comes soon and breaks the silence, "Thanks for telling me, Camille. I... I'm so sorry that you lived like that for so long."

  He stands up and helps me to my feet as his face contorts to a grimace like he's looking for ways to fight a dead man. But with a slow breath, his expression settles, and he looks back at me.

  "I don't want you spending your Vernal Break with your mom. She sounds unsafe. I'd rather you be with me," He stops in his tracks as if hearing the protectiveness in his words. "That is... if you want to."

  I stare at him with wide eyes. "Would you really let me?" I question.

  He scratches his cheek in embarrassment, "You don't even have to ask. We're together after all."

  I open my desk drawer fervently and take out my pager.

  "Then, I should tell her now," I reply excitedly.

  But the rush of etion drains away as my eyes nd on the reply box and Mother's looming words. A chill runs through me as my thoughts ask again and again if I want to change my mind and just go back to that house. Each time, I tell myself 'no,' but unease still clings tightly to my heart.

  A hand on my shoulder pulls me back, and I find Sebastian standing there. His expression is nervous but resolute and his silent encouragement breathes strength into my resolve. With his certainty supporting mine, I begin transcribing our coded nguage into the pager.

  'I'm Staying With A Friend. This Will Strengthen My Cover.'

  It doesn't take long for Mother to reply.

  'Are You Certain?'

  My heart beats faster and I squeeze Sebastian's hand.

  'Yes.'

  Nothing comes for a moment, but after a tense few minutes of waiting she replies.

  'Confirmed.'

  Then correspondence ends.

  I exhale sharply, relief spreading through me as I meet Sebastian's gaze with a ugh. He chuckles in response and without hesitation, I open my arms to invite him into a hug.

  I find that I've been somewhat addicted to them tely.

  Taking the cue, he steps forward and wraps his arms around me, and I return it with fervor.

  "Where is your home?" I ask, trying not to jump around like a child.

  He rubs his head diffidently, a look of small guilt on his face.

  "Well, my family has an Aestival home that I usually visit during breaks like these. But... it's not in Aurelia-Fields," he admits.

  My eyes widen as my grip on him loosens, "It's out of the country?"

  He nods slowly before quickly tagging on, "Yes, it's in Verdelune. But don't worry, I'll be next to you the whole time. We won't be apart, not even for a second. No one will figure out a thing, I promise."

  He waits, eyes searching mine as though bracing for another storm to rise.

  But it doesn't.

  I trust him.

  "Hey, it's okay," I say, biting my thumb in excitement.

  I look towards the ground, thinking up something big.

  "I have a pn."