Summer's Ghost [closed]

OOC: Shitposts are my specialty.

Only flowers remained of the summer that had come and gone in the blink of an eye. Their bright petals glistened with rainwater now, the last vestiges of color still left in the world since autumn came and stole the sun. Raindrops fell on her cheeks like soft cold kisses from a pale gray sky. She wrapped her fingers around the stalk of a fiery red geranium and plucked it out from the damp soil. It sent a pang of regret through her heart at the thought of something so pretty wilting into nothing because of her, but that was nothing new.

Evelyn turned the flower around in her fingers, listening to the steady wash of rain against leaves and buildings. It pattered against the concrete and drove everybody inside, away from her. She liked it that way. It was cold and wet, but the rain made her feel clean and calm. Here she could think, and for once be alone. It was raining when we met in that café. We raced to the dorms and he gave me his shirt. Remembering that still made her face flush, so why did she still feel doubtful? He’d be in Europe now, for who knew how long…

She pulled out a petal and let it flutter to the ground underneath the bench. “He loves me…”

Another. “He l-loves me not…”

Meanwhile Montare entered the courtyard a few moments later. He tried paid no mind to the water droplets that softly struck his face from the clouds above, although slight annoyance showed on his features. He could be seen leaning on a tree soon after, sheltered from the rain by the flame-colored autumn leaves. It appeared Montare was in thought, and that, with the help of Evelyn's power, he had not noticed her presence.

"He loves me... H-he loves me not..." Rain washed down her face like tears, soaking through her clothes and drenching her hair. The petals fluttered down one by one to land at her feet. "He l-l-loves me... He loves me not... He loves me..." She paused, her eyes wandering over the flower and to the dark shape farther ahead, under the shade of a red-leafed branch. His footsteps could hardly be heard through the rain. Now he leaned against the bark, hardly distinguishable in the rain, but still all too unfamiliar. Her heart sunk into her stomach, but she didn't move. For some reason, aside from that small spark of recognition, she felt nothing but complete apathy toward him.

Montare. Was there ever a name more dreaded here at Beata Academy? All of that drama had happened nearly a year ago, a millennium in school time. His drama got stale and people stopped talking. The lack of rumors must have meant that he'd laid low since then, but she hadn't forgotten that day in the woods. Now he was here again, out with her, alone. If he'd noticed her, he showed no sign of it. Maybe it was a good thing Jace wasn't here with her now. He'd have thrown a punch by now, and then he'd be wolf-meal. Acts of vain recklessness were often confused for acts of gallantry, but maybe that was another thing she liked about him.

She plucked another petal, her whispered words frosting in the crisp chilling air. "He loves me not..."