Scarlet Fox. House of nobility. Edgar Redmond and his fag were the two most beautiful souls in the entire campus. But Remond's being a prefect was much more than that. He represented Scarlet Fox through a degree of grace, elegance, and style. He, like a rose, could be luscious as the petals and then cruel as the thorns if he had to enforce or authorize discipline.
That's the brief poem left by a rose in the vast gardens behind the Scarlet Fox dorms. A poem left by you, he knew. The scent of the flowers you always carried was infused in the black ink and white parchment. A gorgeous, red flower pinned in your hair which always caught Redmond's attention. It wasn't just the flower though. It was the way you carried yourself, your elegance, the way you made people think you were the centre of the vast universe with just one look. Or at least that was what Redmond believed.
He slipped a perfectly folded note from his pocket and placed it back on the bench, placing his own rose with the one you left him. He wondered if you knew it was him. As a prefect, he couldn't have any relationship with any student, it would ruin the name of the prefects. But then again, any relationship between students was banned. He had to enforce that. But he let this one slide.
He walked away from the bench and sighed silently in the empty gardens. He always left his note when everybody else would be at their final study class, one he, as a prefect, could skip. He wondered when you left your note back, and he slipped your words of love into a inner pocket of his jacket. If you had known it was him, would you still feel the same way?
Redmond sat inside as rain splattered against the large windows. The main lounge room was the largest but many students left to their own room. Redmond looked around, noticing you sat in the far corner. You had a notebook in your lap and calligraphy pen. Your eyes were enamoured as they looked in the direction of the bench, and Redmond wanted to join you. He had no reason to though besides these forbidden feelings, so he staid back.
He fingered the poem he had rewritten, as the other was by now drenched with water. He then leaned back and watched the last person retire for the night. He glanced at a nearby clock to find that in a few minutes all the students should be in their rooms. It gave him an excuse.
He stood up and walked over to you, sitting on the edge of your chair. You looked up at him, then quickly covered your notebook. He could see the poem he had last given yesterday pressed between the pages.
"It's time to retire for the evening. May this help you sleep,"
He held out the poem he recently rewrote which you took with disbelieving eyes. Was Redmond the student who had been exchanging poems with your for the last few months? You blushed at the prospect before taking the folded paper and standing up.
Redmond stood up when you did and gave you a soft smile. "No need to say a word. We are both at fault here. It will be our little secret."
Redmond reached out and placed his hand on your cheek. You were stunned by the feel of his soft caress your face before pulling away, fingers lingering on your skin for as long as possible.
"You are such a beautiful soul. Filled with such elegance. One year, I hope you become the prefect to this house."
"Redmond, I- I can't believe you actually like me."
Redmond brushed a strand of you hair behind your ear and then kissed your forehead. His lips were soft and you felt your heart flutter at the feeling.
"I've written it countless times, my rose. And I've always known it was you. You stained my mind, have haunted me in my dreams, and catch my attention each time you're in the same room as I. So many words, one simple action."
He leaned forward, and your eyes fluttered close. You two then heard somebody come down the stairs and Redmond quickly pulled away. He flicked back loose strands of his hair and watched someone quickly grab a book that was left on a table. They looked at Redmond and you in confusion, and Redmond made a small motion with his hands.
"To bed, both of you."
His words were rather gentle and you walked up the stairs. The other student, Redmond knew, had a room near his. As you opened your door Redmond placed a kiss to the top of your head. He then slipped a rose in your hands. When you looked back, finally coming out of the shock, he was closing the door to his room. You mimicked that action.
The next day was saturday, and there were no classes. It was still raining outside, this time with sparse lightning also. No students ventured outside, and Redmond inwardly groaned. He would have to, he had a meeting with the three other prefects about a recent bullying case. And yet, he really, really didn't want to.
He caught eye of you through a crowd of students moving somewhere to spend the day in. You didn't have any flowers, unable to collect any. Nor were you dressed in anything which made you stand out from the others. But it was just the way about how you walked, which caught his eyes. And it would catch his eyes each time you were anywhere near him.
Just like his poem had stated;
"Elegance is timeless, beauty blooms, grace shall never fall, but love is all of these. Love is a flame which shall burn hotter and hotter until our lips shall touch. And then it shall bloom in the most wonderful object of beauty. But I do not care for this beauty. All I care is for you, and my love to you.
Perhaps one day, we can experience that burning flame blooming.
~Edgar Redmond, P4"