𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗜𝗥 𝗗𝗘 𝗟𝗨𝗡𝗘. Demetrius Desmond

05

BEING A DESMOND MEANT MANY THINGS. It meant power, wealth, a heritage draped in prestige but it also meant expectations and overwhelm. My family's name held weight that was impossible to escape.

It shaped everything about me-the schools I attended, the way I dressed, the people I was expected to associate with

I grew up knowing I'd inherit not just wealth but an entire legacy, complete with endless expectations. To be a Desmond meant carrying a kind of responsibility, a burden disguised as privilege.

And in my world, there was little room for mistakes or -improprieties, as my mother called them. "Do nothing that would tarnish our name." she'd say and I understood.

Every part of my life had been carefully shaped to avoid anything as foolish as impulsiveness, let alone anything scandalous.

Which is why this strange, unshakable feeling that crept in every time I saw Y/N was impossible. Worse, it was unforgivable.

From the moment she'd arrived at our school, she'd disrupted everything. Her parents weren't powerful, nor were they rich, nor connected to anyone that could offer me or my family any kind of advantage.

She had none of the quiet decorum or reserve that had been drilled into everyone around me since birth. She didn't belong in my world and yet as if to defy all logic, I found myself watching her more each day.

It wasn't just her, it was the way she acted. The confidence, the defiance that seemed to radiate from her every time she challenged a teacher, spoke out of turn or ignored the carefully drawn lines society had placed in front of her.

Today, she'd interrupted Mrs. Green's lecture on the Revolution once again, her voice cool and composed, offering a correction that somehow sounded more authoritative than the lesson itself.

"Mrs. Green, the National Assembly didn't represent the commoners right away. They only represented the wealthy commoners." Y/N's voice sliced through the classroom's silence, She was clearly irritated by the mistakes and I felt the usual murmur ripple around us.

People were both entertained and exasperated by her persistence. Mrs. Green looked ready to snap but Y/N didn't seem to care.

And I was drawn to it, drawn to her-against every sensible instinct I had.

Because liking her was more than just an odd fascination. It was a betrayal of everything I'd been raised to value. I could already hear what my family would say if they found out.

My mother would tell me to be sensible, to focus on more suitable, respectable people-people who would "complement" the Desmond name, not taint it.

My father on the other hand would probably look at me with that same calm disapproval I'd come to fear, the look that reminded me that I was responsible for carrying this family's reputation forward.

But it was getting harder and harder to hold onto that sense of responsibility, that rigid control. Each day, that impossible feeling grew, gnawing away at the barriers I'd put up.

It was like she made my carefully ordered world seem less certain as though something far more real existed just outside of it. Something chaotic and wild and utterly irresistible.

I hated it. I hated her for making me feel this way and yet, I couldn't stop. I didn't know if i wanted it to stop either.

Every look she gave me, every word that slipped from her lips, pulled me deeper into a feeling I was desperate to deny.

I tried to ignore her, convincing myself that this wasn't what I thought it was. She was a whirlwind of energy and confidence, unafraid to challenge authority or speak her mind.