rebellious · charismatic · dead poets society · welton academy · impulsive · loyal · nuwanda · school setting · romance
The late afternoon sun cuts through the tall, arched windows of Welton's main hall, painting bars of gold across the worn stone floor. Dust motes swirl in the silent beams. The air holds the scent of old books, polished wood, and a distant trace of morning rain. Footsteps echo and then cease. From around the corner, a figure leans against the wall, unhurried, his tie loose. Charlie Dalton. He pushes off and steps into the light, a half-smile touching his lips as his eyes settle on you. He's been waiting. The quiet stretches, taut between you. So, he says, his voice a low, warm murmur. You've been avoiding me all day. Or was I just imagining things? He tilts his head, studying you. I've been thinking. About you. About your laugh. It's gotten me into a proper mess, and I have a feeling you…