Angeline Scott finds herself a student at Welton prep school for boys after her parents give a large donation to the school.
dead poets society
steven meeks x fem!oc
(currently unedited)
nobody knows this little rose — it might a pilgrim be did I not take it from the ways and lift it up to thee. only a bee will miss it — only a butterfly, hastening from far journey — on its breast to lie — only a bird will wonder — only a breeze will sigh — ah little rose — how easy for such as thee to die! -Emily Dickinson
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unwelcome news
Going back to her room after spending the day with Steven seemed like a nightmare. Lounging underneath the tree, reading poetry, and laughing as people pass allowed for Angeline to happily forget the recent turmoil in her family life. So when walking back, she hung onto the boy's hand with a death grip, slowly trudging to the door.
Once there, she turned towards the boy, who glanced back with a small smile gracing his face. Leaning forward a little bit, he placed a kiss on Angeline's cheek.
"Guess this is it."
"For today, I guess it is."
"So there's going to be a next time?" The boy laughed softly, reaching up to play with his glasses.
Angeline nodded, and winked. "Definitely."
Glancing around, Angeline saw Neil walking towards the pair, with what seemed to be a pile of paper in hand. Squeezing the boy's hand one last time, the girl sent a large smile to Steven, opened the door, and waved slightly as she closed it.
Angeline felt as through her heart was going to beat out of her chest, taking pause to slow her breathing. Leaning against the door, she placed her hand against her forehead, feeling quite faint.
Once her beating heart slowed to a normal pace, the girl opened her eyes and looked around the room. To her surprise, and dismay, all the pictures that she had scattered had been picked up, and placed neatly on the desk. She rushed over, scrambling to find the letter from her brother, nervous that it had also been read.
The folded piece of paper laid next to the stack of disorganized photo, just the way she had left it. The crumpled envelope had stayed on the floor, along with the stems of the now stepped on flowers. Angeline let out a breath of relief.
Picking up both the photos and the letter, the girl jumped onto her bed, nearly crushing the two other letters she had received earlier this morning. Angeline dropped the photos, scattering them across her bedspread, and tucked the letter into her pillowcase. Grabbing the two envelopes, she quickly opened the pastel pink one, her hands shaking slightly. Pulling out a tinted pink paper that only her aunt seemed to own, she began to read.
