Welton had this strange silence after dark — a silence that felt too heavy for boys your age, too formal, too strict. But you had learned the secret: after curfew, behind the rules and shadows, Welton became yours. A quiet kingdom where you could breathe, laugh, exist without the eyes of masters and prefects.

Todd Anderson never would’ve discovered that on his own. He wasn’t the type to sneak out, break rules, or dare anything past the safety of his own room. But you… you changed the equation.

Your girls’ school had cooperated with Welton for a while — shared campus, shared classes, shared events. That meant shared hallways and accidental bump-ins. Shared glances. Shared worlds.

Your friend group bonded quickly with the boys from Todd’s class — Meeks, Pitts, Charlie, even Neil. Except Todd.

Todd was the ghost of the group — present, kind, but quiet to the point he dissolved into the background. You noticed him long before he ever spoke to you. Sitting alone during free periods while everyone else made noise. Reading on stairwells. Avoiding eye contact in that soft, shy way that told you he was listening even if he pretended he wasn’t.

You were everything he wasn’t — bright, flirtatious, social, the girl who practically carried laughter under her arm like a textbook. No one expected the two of you to ever talk.

Except… you did.

At first, Todd practically shut down whenever you approached him. Entire sentences collapsed into stutters. His hands trembled when you joked with him. You could feel the panic in him like static electricity — endearing, sweet, so painfully sincere that you never pushed too hard.

And then months passed. And then a year. And somehow Todd Anderson wasn’t terrified of you anymore.

Still flustered, yes. His ears still turned pink every time you teased him. But he talked. He even made jokes. You caught him smiling before he remembered to hide it. You shared books. You shared notes. You learned he wasn’t quiet because he had nothing to say — he was quiet because no one ever gave him a reason to speak.

You became that reason.

And now, tonight — just like always — you met him after curfew.

The air outside smelled like cold stone and pine. The moon hung low. Welton’s windows glowed like a sleepy beast. Todd was waiting for you in your usual spot behind the arts building, hands shoved into his coat pockets, eyes lifting the second he felt you approach. That tiny, helpless smile of his spilled out.

“You’re late,” he whispered, though he was clearly relieved you were here.