Softly, in September

Rumors Burn Quiet

By Monday, Noah's name was on everyone's lips—but nobody really knew him.

The cafeteria erupted in a flurry of whispers. Some claimed he was on probation. Others said he had set a locker on fire at his previous school. One girl claimed she had seen a knife in his backpack. Ava didn't say a word. She just observed.

Noah did not react to any of it.

He walked through the crowd like fog—untouchable, half-seen, half-felt.

He never showed up to the cafeteria. Never smiled. Never joked. Yet he always managed to be in the same class as her. Same library table. Same third-period hallway. It was as if the universe had charted a path between them, and none of them requested it.

And that annoyed her.

Because the more she attempted not to notice him, the more her mind leaned towards his silence.

Tuesday Afternoon – Library

You always eat by yourself?" he asked, dropping into the chair across from her as though he owned it.

Ava didn't look up. "You usually follow girls around at lunch?"

"Only the quiet ones," he replied.

She scoffed in spite of herself. "So now you're charming?

"I can be. You want me to show you?"

She finally locked gazes with him, and something perilous traveled between them. The same electric attraction that tightened her chest and sent her thoughts fleeing. She despised that sensation. Adored it, as well.

You shouldn't be here," she said.

"Why not?"

Because I don't like attention. And you? You're a walking headline.

His smile dropped.

"And still," he said softly, "you allow me to sit here."

Silence.

Then: "Why do you even speak to me, Noah?"

He leaned toward her, speaking softly. "Because I see what you hide. You go through life as if nothing touches you, but your eyes—" He stopped. "Your eyes are loud."

She swallowed. "You don't know me."

"I want to."

Wednesday – Things Get Ugly

It happened in the hallway.

Ava was passing by the lockers when she heard it.

Must be nice being the new kid's obsession," someone growled.

She spun around. Crystal, one of those bitter pretty girls with not enough soul and too much time.

Ava froze. “Excuse me?”

Crystal sat down, crossing her arms. "He looks at you like you're his therapy. But guys like that? They break things. You should be careful."

Ava's tone was frigid. "Jealousy doesn't suit you.".

Crystal smiled. "Neither do bruises."

That was when Ava understood that Crystal had known something. Or seen something. Or worse—had been with him.

The thought stirred up something sour in her stomach. Not that she minded. She didn't. She couldn't.

But when she turned, she saw Noah standing at the other end of the hall. He had heard everything.

And the look in his eyes wasn't shame. It was anger. With himself.

He passed by both of them without saying a word.

Later – Rooftop

Ava found him there after school. She didn't even know how she'd known he'd be there. She just. did.

He sat on the edge, his feet hanging over the side as though he defied gravity and repercussions.

And what about Crystal?" she queried.

He didn’t answer at first.

Then, "I told her something I shouldn't have. She told everyone else. That's what people do.".

What did you say to her?

He tossed his head back, his eyes darker than she'd ever noticed. "That I blamed myself for my brother's death. That I believed that if I had been there, he'd still be alive."

Ava's breath caught.

Noah laughed bitterly. "And now I'm the freak. The violent one. The boy with the dead brother and the bruised fists."

She stepped nearer. Warily. "You're not a freak."

"Yah?" His voice broke. "Then what am I?"

"You're broken," she said, her position being alongside him. "But so is everyone else. You just don't behave like they do."

They sat in silence after that. Side by side. Wind wrapping around them like a blanket of ghosts.

At last, he inquired, "Why are you not fleeing?"

"Because I know what it's like to quietly fall apart."

He gazed at her, and in the instant, an unspoken something moved between them. A truce. A thread of understanding. A warning.

If they continued to move closer, neither of them would remain untouched.

Thursday – The Spark

They had been partnered together for the semester-long project in literature class.

Ava felt like protesting. Mr. Kent gave her a look that said don't even think about it.

So here they were now—sitting at the same desk, sharing the same air, hearts doing things they shouldn't.

Their subject was tragic love stories.

It was, of course.

He scribbled something on his notebook. Then pushed it over to her. She looked down. "What if we're making our own?" Her heart flipped. She pushed it back. "Then at least let's make it worth reading." He smiled. And she knew she was already in too deep.