THE AFTERNOON STRETCHES LAZILY, the sky tinged with pinkish hues as the sun slowly sinks toward the horizon. Aimée has taken refuge in an empty classroom on the top floor of the school, seeking a bit of peace. Sitting on the windowsill, she watches the students gradually leave the building, each one returning to their routine, their friends, their secrets.
Just as she is about to leave the room and head home, voices from the hallway catch her attention. The door is slightly ajar, and through the crack, she catches sight of a familiar figure: Joseph. He's there, leaning against a locker, speaking quietly with Jean, a serious expression on his face.
She doesn't intend to eavesdrop, but something about Joseph's posture, the tension in his shoulders, keeps her from looking away. He doesn't have his usual arrogant demeanor, nor that mocking smile that irritates her so much. No, this time, he seems almost... fragile, breakable.
"I'm telling you, it's fine," he murmurs, though his voice lacks conviction. He absentmindedly reaches up to touch his eyepatch, as if seeking reassurance. "It's just... these past few days, it hurts more than usual. Nothing serious."
The boy in front of him raises his eyebrows, his eyes filled with skepticism. "Are you sure ? Because the last time you said that, you ended up in the infirmary."
Joseph lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, I can handle it. I don't need help, alright ?" His hand lingers on the eyepatch before falling limply to his side.
Aimée has never really thought about what it means for him to live with one eye. He wears it like a simple quirk, like an accessory that's part of his carefree style. Yet now, she perceives the truth behind his bravado.
She takes a step back, but her foot bumps into a desk, causing a slight noise that makes the two boys jump. Joseph turns abruptly in her direction, and their eyes meet through the gap in the door. There is a brief moment of hesitation, where neither seems to know what to say or do. Aimée feels caught, like an intruder in a moment that doesn't belong to her.
"Hey, redhead," he says finally, his tone softer than usual, his expression closing off instantly. He takes a few steps toward her, his jaw tightening as if trying to mask his embarrassment with a look of annoyance. "Spying on people now ? You must be desperate."
Her cheeks burning, she shakes her head, a mix of apology and defiance. "I didn't mean to... I didn't know that..." She doesn't finish her sentence, her words trailing off in the awkwardness of the situation. "I was just passing by."
