Marianne : "Hey, want to go somewhere?"
Lucien : "What? Where are we going?" I replied.
Marianne : "Just follow me. I know a spot," she said with as she smiled . "It's allowed there, and it's going to be alright. Come on now, hold my hand."
Without hesitation, I reached out, and she took my hand in hers. We started running, our footsteps echoing through the staircases and hallways. The world around us seemed to blur, everything slowing down as if we were caught in a dream. The moment felt surreal, like I had been transported into an old French film, where every movement was drenched in nostalgia and every glance was filled with meaning.
The way she led me, with such confidence and warmth, made me feel as though nothing else mattered. The walls of the building faded into the background as we moved, becoming mere shadows of reality, and all that remained was the thrill of the journey, the sense of adventure that hummed between us. I couldn't help but smile as we raced through the corridors, the mundane world outside forgotten.
It felt like we were chasing something magical, something just out of reach but so close. The way the light flickered in the dimly lit stairwells, the sound of our breathing mingling with the rustle of our clothes. And through it all, the sensation of her hand in mine anchored me, making everything else seem less real, less important.
As we reached the top of the stairs, the anticipation in my chest grew, the promise of something special waiting just ahead. I had no idea where she was taking me, but somehow, I knew that wherever it was, it would be worth the journey.
When we reached the top of the stairs, we found ourselves on the school's rooftop, hidden away and offering a stunning view of the campus below. The sight took my breath away; it was as if we had stepped into a secret world that had been waiting just for us.
I looked was shocked and could hardly contain my amazement. "I can't believe I didn't even know this was here! Six damn years in this school, and I thought I knew every nook and cranny. How the hell did you even find this place?"
She smiled, a hint of nostalgia in her expression. "During my first week of school, I was just wandering around, trying to get familiar with everything. I ended up here in the old juniors' wing, and I guess my curiosity got the best of me. I decided to explore, and that's when I discovered this rooftop. It felt like a hidden gem, a place no one else knew about, at least as far as I could tell. I like to come here when I need to think.
As she spoke, I found myself not fully comprehending her words. I was too captivated by the way her eyes glistened as she talked, the way her voice carried a sense of wonder and serenity. It was as if I could see the place through her eyes, but even more, I could see her in a new light.
"It is beautiful... really beautiful," I managed to say, though I wasn't just talking about the view. She continued to talk about the rooftop, about how it was her sanctuary, a place where she could find clarity and calm. But for me, the most beautiful thing wasn't the rooftop—it was her.
As she described the tranquility of the place, her face lit up with a quiet joy. I couldn't help but think that the rooftop, as lovely as it was, paled in comparison to the person standing beside me. The way she cherished this hidden corner of the world made me realize just how special she was. The rooftop might have been a place of beauty and solace, but it was her that made it truly magical.
As our peers began marching, we sat in silence next to each other, observing them intently. The rhythmic sound of footsteps echoed around us, but we remained still, side by side, quietly taking it all in.
There was a sense of unity in the air, a collective energy that surged through the crowd as our classmates moved in perfect synchronization. Yet, despite the bustling activity, our small corner felt like an island of calm, a place where words were unnecessary. The silence between us wasn't awkward or tense; it was comforting, almost as if our thoughts were in harmony, quietly aligning as we watched the scene unfold before us.
I could feel her presence beside me, the warmth of her arm just inches from mine, and it grounded me in a way I hadn't expected. As we sat there, side by side, a silent understanding passed between us. We were both caught up in the moment, not just as spectators but as quiet participants in a shared experience. There was something so deeply intimate about being together in that stillness, our attention focused outward yet somehow more connected to each other than ever.
Our peers moved with purpose, their faces set with determination, but we found something different in the act of simply observing. It was as if we were witnessing more than just a march—we were seeing the essence of what it meant to be part of something larger, yet finding solace in the quiet companionship we shared. The world moved around us, but in that moment, nothing mattered more than the silence that spoke volumes between us.
All my life, I had never been comfortable with people, especially in silence. But there was something different about Marianne; I felt so safe, so at ease. It felt so right, as if I had finally found a place where I belonged. I never thought that in my life I would associate silence with understanding, but here I was, experiencing it with her.
As we stood there, I could feel her presence beside me, her gaze shifting between the view below and the stars above. Yet, more than anything, I felt her attention on me—not in an intrusive way, but in a way that made me feel seen, understood, and cared for. There was no need for words between us. Her warmth and love enveloped me, and it was as if we were communicating on a deeper level, one that transcended language.
The silence that once made me uncomfortable now felt comforting, almost sacred. It was in this quietude that I realized how deeply connected we were. Every breath she took, every slight movement, was filled with meaning. The heat of our presence intertwined, creating a cocoon of understanding and affection. In that moment, I knew that I had found something rare and precious—a bond that needed no words to convey its depth. The silence between us spoke
volumes, and it was the most profound conversation I had ever had.
