𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃, joseph descamps

𝟎𝟏𝟎. autumn chills and serenades

IT'S LUNCH BREAK, and the autumn sun bathes the high school courtyard in a soft, golden light. Students scatter into small groups, laughing and chatting, enjoying the reprieve between classes. Joseph stands with his friends in a corner of the courtyard. His usually detached demeanor betrays a certain inner agitation.

At the other end of the courtyard, she sits on a bench with her friends. Next to her is Pichon. They seem engaged in a lively conversation, and Aimée's crystal-clear laughter carries across the courtyard, reaching Joseph's ears.

He clenches his fists, a wave of jealousy washing over him. He doesn't understand why seeing Aimée with Henri bothers him so much. He tries to look away, but his eyes keep returning to the scene, trapped against his will.

"Hey, Joseph, are you coming ?" calls Dupin, one of his friends, interrupting his thoughts. "We're going to smoke behind the gymnasium."

He nods absentmindedly, but his mind remains fixed on Aimée. "Go without me," he replies abruptly.

His friends look at him in surprise but don't press him. He distances himself from them, his steps involuntarily leading him toward the bench where she sits.

He stops a few meters from the bench, trying to find an excuse to get closer. Finally, he opts for a direct approach. "Hey," he says, his voice a bit rougher than he intends.

Aimée looks up, surprised to see him there. "Hey," she replies, her green eyes scrutinizing him with restrained curiosity.

He ignores Henri, his gaze locked on her. "I wanted to talk to you about our presentation," he says, improvising. "I had an idea for the development."

She furrows her brow slightly, but she stands up, tacitly agreeing to follow him away. "Okay," she replies. "Let's go discuss it."

They move away from the bench, leaving Henri watching them leave. Once out of sight of curious eyes, she turns to Joseph, arms crossed. "What do you really want ? I know you don't have any ideas for the presentation."

She's right, he doesn't have any new ideas for their presentation. He feels exposed and vulnerable, but he can't back down now.

"I couldn't let you be with that guy, that's all."

"Henri ? Why does it bother you so much ?"

Joseph's anger surfaces more openly. "Because Pichon is an idiot. He thinks he's the center of the universe with his stupid jokes."

Aimée crosses her arms more firmly. "He's my friend. And he hasn't done anything wrong."

"You don't understand. He's trying to get close to you. He doesn't really respect you."

She looks at him, visibly annoyed. "And you respect me by interrupting me every time I talk to someone else ? By criticizing the size of my chest ? Or the color of my hair ?"

His expression darkens, but he can't give in now, not when he feels his jealousy and frustration boiling inside him. "It was just a joke," he replies, trying to downplay the incident. "I didn't think you'd take it so badly."

Aimée looks at him, her eyes burning with indignation. "A joke ? Do you realize how hurtful you can be ?"

"And you think it's better to flaunt yourself with Pichon in front of everyone ? Do you think I haven't noticed the way he looks at you ?"

She shakes her head, exasperated. "That's not what it's about. You're so obsessed with your own insecurities that you don't see that I can have friends without it being a problem."

"Friends ?" he retorts, his voice rising. "Are you blind or something ? He wants more than that, and you know it very well. Maybe the problem is that you've never tried to really get to know me. You just settle for your superficial judgments."

"Superficial ? Really ?! You talk about superficiality, but you forget an important detail. I'm not the one who started this war between us. I didn't soak Michèle with water on the first day of class. That's your mistake."

"A mistake ?" He bursts into bitter, joyless laughter. "Do you really think it was just a mistake ? I lost an eye that day ! Do you realize what that means for me ?"

"I'm sorry for what happened that day, but it doesn't justify you acting like a jerk toward me and my friends."

"A jerk ? I'm acting like a jerk right now because it kills me to see you with him !"

She looks at him, stunned. "What do you mean ? All you do is criticize and humiliate me."

He steps closer, standing so near that she can feel the heat radiating from his body, his breath quick and uneven. He corners her against a wall, one hand pressed beside her head, the other running angrily through his red hair. "Do you really want to know what I mean ?" he spits, his face just inches from hers.

Aimée, her heart racing, forces herself to hold his gaze. She refuses to show that he intimidates her, even though his closeness makes her nervous. She shakes her head, trying to break free from his hold. "It's selfish. You can't control who I'm friends with or how I feel. That's not how it works."

"Selfish ?" he repeats, his eyes softening for a moment. "Maybe I am."

Their gazes lock, and for an instant, time seems to stop. He leans in slightly, his face even closer to hers, his eyes searching for something in hers.

Then suddenly, as if realizing the gravity of the situation, he straightens up and steps back abruptly. "No, this isn't possible," he murmurs, his face twisted with a mix of frustration and confusion.

Before she can react, he turns on his heel and strides away, leaving her alone and shocked, her cheeks flushed. She stands there, frozen, her heart still pounding, trying to comprehend what just happened.

"Descamps, wait !" she cries, but he doesn't turn back. He keeps walking, quickly disappearing into the crowd of students rushing through the courtyard.

She takes a deep breath, trying to calm her frantically beating heart. Her thoughts whirl, colliding in her mind. She's never seen him so vulnerable, and it disturbs her deeply. She runs a trembling hand over her face, still feeling the warmth of his closeness.