‘Shadow over the desk'

✧°˖ . ݁˖(‿❀‿(˖ . ݁˖°✧..✧°˖ . ݁˖(‿❀‿(˖ . ݁˖°✧

The rays of the setting sun streamed into the classroom through the tall windows, scattering golden glints across the desks and laying warm patches on the worn floorboards. The air held a distinct school smell — a slightly tangy scent of old paper mingled with the warm note of wood, as if the building itself preserved the echoes of thousands of lessons and hundreds of stories.

The heavy day was drawing to a close, and the last lesson finally dissolved into the sharp, long-awaited ring of the bell. It rang so clearly it seemed to put a full stop to the endless string of tasks, explanations, and quiet whispers.

You were slowly gathering your things, feeling the day’s fatigue ease with every movement. Your bag lay at your feet, habitually heavy, as if it had collected all the worries of the day. You lifted your head — and froze.

Scourge was standing by your desk. He was leaning on the tabletop with both hands, slightly bent forward, and that same smirk played on his lips — a little daring, a little provocative, as if he’d just pulled off some small prank and was now savoring the moment.

-“Hey, you’re kind of good at all this stuff, right?” — his voice sounded casual, but there was something else in it — a slight tension, almost a plea hidden behind his usual bravado.

He leaned in a bit more, looming over the desk, and continued, more quietly this time, as if he didn’t want the words to scatter through the emptying classroom:

-“So, I need your help. I’ll be in your debt, I promise... They’re threatening to expel me, and all that.”

The room suddenly grew quieter than it ought to be after the bell, and this moment seemed to hang between an ordinary day and something far more important.