𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃, joseph descamps

𝟎𝟐𝟗. under the veil of snowflakes

IT'S THE LAST WEEK BEFORE WINTER BREAK, and the landscape is covered with a thick blanket of snow, giving the atmosphere both a magical and melancholic feel. Aimée arrives at school, her heart heavy yet pulsing with nervous anticipation. A dark red wool hat covers her red hair, while a knitted scarf wraps around her neck, protecting her from the biting cold.

Her kiss with Joseph leaves her feeling both exhilarated and anxious. It's her first kiss, a moment she has imagined countless times in her mind, but never with such intensity or mix of emotions.

As she approaches the school entrance, she scans the familiar faces, hoping to catch a glimpse of Joseph.

When she finally sees him, his silhouette outlined against the building's wall, he leans against a column, a cigarette between his fingers. His dark eye is lost in contemplation of the gently falling snow around him.

She takes a deep breath, hesitating to move forward. Her steps eventually carry her toward him, but to her great surprise, Joseph ignores her. He continues smoking, staring into the distance as if he hasn't even noticed her.

Disappointment washes over Aimée, and her heart tightens. How can he ignore her after what they shared ?

Other students crowd around them, some laughing, others rushing to their classes. Aimée suddenly feels out of place, as if she's caught in a fog while everyone else continues their routine. She forces herself to walk away, diverting her gaze from Joseph. Maybe he acted on a whim, or the moment they shared isn't as important to him as it is to her.

Finally, she joins Michèle and Simone, sitting on a bench in the entrance hall. They exchange laughter and jokes, but Aimée can't shake off the feeling of being on the outside. Michèle, noticing her troubled expression, stops mid-sentence. "Hey, Aimée, are you okay ? You seem somewhere else."

"Yeah, I'm fine... I think." She feels foolish for letting a boy hurt her, but the pain is too real.

The bell rings, signaling the end of the break. She feels her heart race as she heads toward class. She tries not to look at Joseph during the lesson, but her thoughts inevitably drift to him. Each time she sees him, her mind becomes foggy, and this time, it's her who struggles to follow the lessons. The teachers' words seem to fade into a haze of confusion.

She recalls the taste of his lips, the sweetness of their kiss, and it disturbs her even more. The sensation of his mouth against hers is etched in her memory, and each time she closes her eyes, it's as if the world stops. "Focus, Aimée," she murmurs to herself, trying to chase away her thoughts.

But Joseph is there, right in front of her, unfazed, taking notes without seeming to care about her presence. The contrast between their last shared moment and his distant attitude tightens her chest. Why is he ignoring her ?

At the end of the day, she leaves school with a heavy heart. The path home is sprinkled with softly falling snowflakes, blanketing the ground in a white and silent layer.

Suddenly, as she turns the corner of a street, she sees him. Joseph leans against a lamppost, a cigarette in hand, his gaze lost in the falling snow. Why is he always smoking ?

He looks pensive, as if he's in another world. Aimée feels her heart race. She hesitates for a moment, but an irresistible impulse pushes her to approach him.

"Joseph," she says, her voice barely audible, almost drowned out by the wind's breath.

He slowly turns his head toward her, and for a brief moment, their eyes meet. She reads a glimmer of irritation in his gaze, but also surprise. "Redhead," he replies simply, without real emotion.

She wants to say something, to complain about his behavior, but he grabs her by the arm, pulling her into a small alley away from prying eyes. Before she can react, he kisses her with an intensity that surprises her. His taste is slightly bitter, a mix of cigarette and something sweeter. She freezes, perplexed, then pushes him away slightly, her eyes wide.

"What are you doing ?"

He sighs, his gaze darkening. "Listen, I don't want anyone else to know what's going on between us. It's complicated, okay ?"

She looks at him, her thoughts in disarray. "You want to keep this a secret ? Why ? Are you scared ?"

"No, that's not it," he replies, his voice softer. "It's just that I don't know how to handle all this. I feel like if we tell everyone, it will ruin everything."

"So you want it to stay just between us ? Like a secret ?"

"Yeah, I want us to take our time, to figure out what this really means without pressure."

She bites her lip, considering his words. The fear of the unknown, mixed with the excitement of what could be, knots her stomach. "Okay, but I want it to be real. I can't just settle for a secret forever."

He looks at her, his expression softening, and nods. She moves closer to him, catching her breath, while he slides his hands over her hips. They gaze at each other for a moment, then he kisses her again, more tenderly this time, as if he wants to erase all uncertainties.

The snowflakes continue to fall, silent and light, as if they seek to hide the secret they share in this secluded alley.

When they part, he runs a hand through his tousled hair. "I should walk you home," he says, his voice almost hesitant. "It's getting late."

Aimée nods, her heart still racing. They start walking, their footsteps crunching on the fresh snow. A comfortable silence settles between them, only interrupted by the breath of the wind dancing the flakes around them.

The path to her home is peaceful, the twilight painting the sky in shades of pink and purple. They walk slowly, unhurried, as if neither of them truly wants this moment to end. Their shoulders brush against each other at times, and she can feel Joseph's reassuring presence beside her.

"You know," he murmurs after a moment, breaking the silence. "This wasn't planned."

"What do you mean ?"

"All of this," he replies, gesturing vaguely to the snow, the path they're following, and finally her. "I never thought I'd find myself here, walking you home."

She smiles slightly. "And do you regret it ?"

Joseph shakes his head. "Not for a second." He pauses, his gaze drifting back to the snowy landscape. "I just think... it scares me sometimes."

Knowing that he shares the same doubts, the same uncertainties, makes things feel a little less complicated. She tightens her scarf around her neck and discreetly slips her hand into his.

When they arrive in front of her house, a streetlamp casts a dim light over the street. The snow continues to fall, blanketing the roof and garden in a thick white layer. They stop a few steps from the door, and Aimée turns to him. "Thanks for walking me home," she murmurs.

"Of course."

She hesitates for a moment, then moves closer to him, placing a light kiss on his cheek, the contact of her cold lips against his skin. "Good night."

He holds her by the arm, his raspy voice resonating in the cold air. "Aimée..." She looks up at him, trying to understand what he wants to say, but he merely stares at her for a moment, as if battling with his own thoughts. Finally, he releases her arm and offers her a lopsided smile. "See you tomorrow, redhead."

She steps back, her heart still pounding, before turning to climb the few steps leading to her door. She glances back at him one last time before entering her house. Joseph stands there, still under the glow of the streetlamp, his silhouette outlined in the darkness. He doesn't move until she shuts the door behind her.

Aimée heads straight to her room and settles by the window to watch him through the curtains. She sees him linger for a few seconds, as if hesitating to leave, then he turns and disappears into the night. She wonders if he's thinking about her in this moment, just as she is thinking of him.

That night, she struggles to find sleep.