it's always the same.

in school hallway, you heard his laughter before you even saw him. the harsh, cynical sound that echoed between the old lockers and the hurried footsteps. niccolò leaning against the wall with that same black coat, his eyes half-closed and the crooked smile that made the girls hold their breath. brando next to him, always with his cap turned backwards, talking loudly, gesturing. and virginia, of course. virginia with her thin laugh and calculated gaze, pretending not to notice the way he looked at you.

'cause you knew how he really looked. when you're alone. when the hallway lights were off and he pulled you to the corner of the fire escape, his hand firmly on your hip, his dark eyes glued to yours.

but there, in front of everyone, you're just the weird one. the one who hung out with ludo, the girl everyone called strange.

— "seriously, brando," he said loudly, leaning back in his chair, "did you see what ludo did to her hair today? looks like she plugged it in."

you sat at the end of table, trying to pretend you weren't listening. ludovica was next to you, fiddling with the ring on her finger, her eyes fixed on the book. she was listening too, but she wasn't saying anything. you're even less so. 'cause you knew what was going to happen next. after class. after the hallways were empty. after Virginia got into her father's damn imported car and brando went out to smoke with the seniors. you knew he was going to wait for you.

and he always waited.

---

on third floor, where the classrooms were always locked, he lean against the wall near the water fountain and cross his arms. when he saw you going up the stairs, he lift his chin just a little, as if he were saying, "hurry up." and you would.

when he got closer, he didn't say anything. just looked at you. 'til you stopped in front of him. 'til the silence became almost unbearable.

— "you took a while," — he said low, hoarse, as if he was angry. — "thought you was going to leave me here like idiot."

you didn't answer. you just leaned against the cold concrete next to him, trying to control your breathing. he got closer.

— "scared of me now?" — he teased, but his voice was already different. wasn't the one he used softly. wasn't that of the cruel boy. was deeper, slower. as if he's feeling each word in his throat.

his hand slid down your arm, slowly. it went up to your neck, without squeezing.

it's as if he took off his mask. there, just the two of you, he didn't mock. laugh. he didn't belittle you.

there, he was just nicco. the boy who looked at you as if he's 'bout to implode. as if he felt something too big to admit.

— "you look so beautiful when you ignore me, you know?" — he said, almost in a whisper. — "when you pretend you don't care."

and then he kiss you. unhurriedly, without fear, as if he're just yours.

but that didn't last long.

cause the next day, he'd be the same again. the idiot with designer sneakers, easy jokes and heart locked under lock and key.

and you'd go back to pretending it didn't hurt.