Aiden slipped into his seat just before the bell. His bag hit the floor with a soft thud, and he leaned back, scanning the room as more students filtered in.
Angela glanced over from her desk. "You alright? You looked a little tense at lunch."
"I'm fine," he said simply, though his tone was distant. His eyes had already landed on the pale kid from earlier, the one with reddish-brown hair who hadn't eaten.
He was here now, slouched in his seat near the middle row, absently poking at his notebook as though to keep up appearances. Aiden noticed the stillness about him, the way his chest rose and fell too evenly, too controlled, like someone trying to mimic the rhythm of breathing rather than needing it.
Mr. Banner grumbled about the broken air conditioning and switched on the fan at the front. The lazy sweep of air carried across the classroom just as Bella walked in, Mike at her side, looking far too eager as he handed her office slip over to the teacher.
She passed the fan, and that's when Aiden saw it.
The pale boy went rigid, jaw clenching, hand snapping to his mouth. His body locked up in a way that didn't look normal, didn't look right. Bella hesitated, her eyes flicking toward him before she slid into the empty seat beside him anyway.
The bell rang.
Edward's body snapped taut in his chair. His hands gripped the edge of the desk, knuckles white, as though an invisible blow had struck him. A second later he jerked a hand over his mouth, eyes narrowing in visible strain. Every line of his body screamed restraint, like he was seconds away from either bolting or breaking.
"Today we're looking at planarian behavior," Mr. Banner started, walking the aisles with two small jars for each student.
Aiden sat back, half-listening, though his eyes flicked once more toward the pair at the front. The kid hadn't moved. Bella looked uncomfortable, and he couldn't blame her.
Strange. But not my problem.
The dark entity stirred, its voice curling through his mind with amusement.
Curious little thing, isn't it? You saw him, like a wolf catching the scent of blood. And you're just going to ignore it?
"Shut the fuck up," Aiden thought calmly, the words sharp, cutting. He opened his notebook, uncapping his pen with slow precision. I've got better things to focus on.
The entity chuckled low, echoing in the back of his skull. Assignments over answers. You never change.
Aiden blocked it out, copying Mr. Banner's instructions without hesitation. Whatever was happening between Bella and the pale boy wasn't his concern.
At least, not right now.
Then he moved.
The scrape of his chair against the floor was loud, cutting through Mr. Banner's droning explanation. Heads turned as the reddish haired boy stood abruptly, his jaw locked, and strode out the door with a speed that made the air shift behind him. He didn't look back, didn't ask permission, didn't care.
The bell rang, mercifully ending the period, the kid was gone, chair shoved back, footsteps sharp as he bolted for the door. Students whispered, curious and restless.
A ripple of whispers broke out immediately, confusion and curiosity buzzing through the class.
Aiden sat, studying Bella. She blinked at the empty space beside her, her lips parting in a small, unsettled breath.
Aiden just packed up, slipping his notebook into his bag. "Weirdest thing I've seen today," he muttered under his breath. Then he left the room, already setting his mind back on the work ahead.
Sliding his jars back to the tray before zipping up his bag. Without a word, he slung it over his shoulder and made for the door. The hallway outside was already alive with noise, but his thoughts stayed inward.
Today had been strange, stranger than usual, and he knew instinctively it was only the beginning.
Aiden went through a couple of more classes before the end of day came quickly.
In his last class, Art, Aiden sat at his desk, earbuds humming with Afrobeats, pencil scratching against paper. The rain outside beat a soft rhythm on the windows, helping him settle into the flow. He tried sketches, shapes, portraits, ideas, but every line curved back to the same face. Rosalie. No matter what he started, his pencil seemed to betray him, always pulling her back onto the page.
He sighed, staring at the unfinished drawing. Then the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He wasn't alone.
Turning, he nearly jumped, standing right behind him was the pixie-haired girl he'd almost bumped into earlier in the hall. She was tiny, graceful, eyes glowing gold under the classroom light, and she smiled as if she'd been waiting for him to notice.
"Hi," she said brightly, her voice like windchimes. "Rosalie." She nodded toward the sketchbook. "You're drawing her."
Aiden pulled out his earbuds, startled but trying not to show it. "Uh… yeah. I mean—kind of. It just… happened."
She stepped closer, leaning to peek at the page with unguarded curiosity. "I'm Alice. Alice Cullen," she said, as though her name was something musical. "And you're…?"
"Aiden White," he answered automatically, closing his sketchbook halfway. He offered his hand, but she just laughed lightly, shaking her head with a little sparkle in her eyes.
"Sorry, I don't really do touching." She said it cheerfully, not awkwardly, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He lowered his hand, clearing his throat. "Right."
Her gaze drifted back to the sketch. "It's Rosalie, isn't it? Why are you drawing her?"
"Honestly?" He shrugged, a little defensive. "I don't know. Guess she stuck in my head. Maybe I wasn't thinking straight when I started, because it wasn't intentional." Then he tilted his head at her. "Why do you care?"
Alice's grin softened into something tender. "Because she's my sister. And… I haven't seen her smile like that in a long time." Her voice stayed sweet, but there was a ripple of sadness beneath it.
Aiden blinked, feeling suddenly guilty. "Didn't mean anything by it. Sorry."
She waved him off instantly, her cheer snapping right back. "Don't apologize! It's beautiful. Really, it means more than you know."
He studied her for a moment. She wasn't just being polite; she meant it.
Alice tilted her head, curiosity shining again. "But why are all your drawings smiling?" She gestured at the other sketches he'd tucked under his arm. "Every single one. I've never seen anything like it."
Aiden chuckled faintly, rubbing the back of his neck. "When I was a kid, I noticed adults never smiled. My guardian told me something once 'When you're young, you have all the smiles in the world. And when you're older, you give them away to kids so they can smile more.'" His voice grew quieter. "So I figured… maybe if I draw people smiling, I can give some of those smiles back."
Alice's eyes softened, and she gasped a little like the thought delighted her. "That's so sweet." Her smile widened into something dazzling. "It's… hopeful. You don't see that often."
Aiden studied her a moment longer, then said quietly, "If you want, I can finish this up and make a copy for Rosalie. Something she can keep. I figure… maybe it'd make her happy."
Alice froze for half a beat, then lit up like he'd handed her a wrapped gift. "You'd do that? That's so kind." Her voice bubbled with joy, her golden eyes practically glowing.
Aiden blinked. "You really want that?"
"Yes!" She clapped her hands softly, almost bouncing on her heels. "I'd be so grateful. You have no idea."
Aiden smirked faintly, shaking his head at her unfiltered joy. She was the complete opposite of Rosalie, light where Rosalie was sharp, cheerful where she was guarded.
And yet, both were now sketched into his life.
Aiden laid the fresh sheet of construction paper across his desk, smoothing the edges with the flat of his palm. For a moment, he simply stared at the blank white expanse, letting the rain against the windows sync with his breathing. Then the pencil found his fingers almost instinctively, as though it already knew where to begin.
The first lines came lightly, barely whispers of graphite, sketching the oval of her face. He worked slow, letting memory fill the gaps, the curve of her cheekbones taking shape, sharp but softened by the hint of a smile. His wrist circled gently, retracing until the outline felt alive beneath the page.
Her hair came next, that cascading shimmer he'd only glimpsed, strands sweeping like waves. He caught the weight of it around her shoulders, layering shadow and light so that it looked as though the paper itself held movement.
The eyes stopped him. Golden, luminous, impossible to forget. He hovered for a moment, pencil paused above the sheet, before committing the faint arch of her lashes, the slope of her brows. Each line was deliberate, reverent. When he shaded the irises, he left them bright, with subtle highlights, a glow caught in graphite.
He set her smile last, delicate and unforced, the kind that carried warmth even without sound. It was small, just the lift of her lips, but it carried the weight of his intention, soft, enduring, almost eternal.
Around her, he built the lilies. Their petals unfolded like shields, a wall of white blooms that framed her face, their stems crossing naturally, guiding the eye inward toward her. He balanced the composition so she seemed both hidden and revealed, like the flowers existed to protect that one fleeting smile.
He thickened the borders, creating a makeshift frame so the portrait felt whole. Then he leaned back, smudging a little graphite across his fingertips, studying what he had made. Rosalie stared back at him from the page, serene and untouchable, yet captured in a moment of quiet joy.
"Oh my, it's wonderful, thank you, thank you thank you" Alice said one more time. As others around us looked at her with weird stares, some with interest, as they looked at the portrait, and were also amazed.
The bell rang signaling for the end of the school day, as everyone packed up all their items and headed out the door.
Aiden looked at the portrait of Rosalie, and though he didn't do much, he had a good memory and displayed most of what he saw. It was no big deal.
"Thank you again Aiden, you don't know how much it means to me, and he knows we would be great friends…" Alice started to say, but she soon lost her voice and her eyes started to retract back as if she was looking into herself.
But then, just as quickly her joy vanished.
Her eyes unfocused, pupils darting as if tracing invisible threads, her body stiffening in a rigid line. The glow that had lit up her face drained away, replaced by something far colder, distant. Alice's lips parted slightly, and she stared through him, past him, at a sight only she could perceive.
"Alice?" Aiden leaned forward, a low tension coiling in his chest.
No answer. Not a sound. Only that faraway, unblinking stare, eyes shimmering faintly, as if a different world had opened behind them.
"Alice, hey are you okay?" His voice was cautious, careful, as he stopped himself from reaching out, remembering her earlier warning about touching.
She blinked once, slowly. Then again. Her chest heaved slightly, and she inhaled sharply, as though surfacing from deep water. The too-bright, forced smile returned to her face, but there was a tremor beneath it, subtle but undeniable.
"I'm fine!" she said, her usual bubbly tone almost straining against the underlying unease.
Aiden hesitated, his gut twisting. Something had passed between them in that instant, a flash, fleeting and incomprehensible, but heavy with weight.
Before he could form a question, Alice gathered her bag with fluid, almost ethereal movements, and straightened.
"I'll see you later!" she chimed, the words light, melodic, masking the shock in her body language. And just like that, she was gone, too fast, too sudden, leaving the half-finished sketch behind.
Aiden stared at it for a long moment, the pencil still in his hand. Rosalie's serene face in the drawing seemed to mock him with its calmness. He shook his head, trying to clear the unease that had settled in his chest, but the feeling lingered, like a whisper brushing against his mind, reminding him that something had shifted in the air.
The classroom felt quieter now, heavier somehow, and Aiden knew he couldn't just ignore it. He stared at the flowers surrounding Rosalie in the sketch, at the carefree tilt of her head, and wondered if anyone else could see what Alice had just glimpsed, or if it was only him, holding the drawing in stunned silence.