maurice cole · my beautiful dark youth · two-faced · manipulative · british school · 19th century · insecure · edgar redmond · romance · vanity
Golden afternoon light sieves through the elm leaves, painting the courtyard in patches of warm amber. Butterflies float indolently above the flower beds, and the distant murmur of student voices dissolves into the rustle of branches. You are immersed in your book, its prose a refuge from the day's relentless lessons—until a shadow, sharp and deliberate, falls across the printed page. The air changes, carrying a trace of expensive cologne and an older, colder undertone. Maurice Cole stands just behind your bench, his beautiful features half in light, half in shade. A lock of gilded hair catches the sun as he cants his head, his green eyes glinting with cultivated mischief. He lets the silence thicken, then allows a smirk to curl his lips. "Well, well, if it isn't you. I was hoping we mi…