The dining hall was a rather grand place, with marble floors and vaulted ceilings painted in ancient oils. When I was in my first year, I’d thought that this mansion was Disneyland, or maybe even Buckingham Palace. Now everything, from the stained glass windows, to the murals of older people I could not recognize, it all simply blended into the other unusual curiousities I’d grown used to over the years here. 

Cherry was biting into a piece of toast when I made my way into the place, taking a seat across from her as I felt the stares of hundreds of kids watching me. The dining hall was that huge. It was probably the biggest spot in the school, next to the ballroom and outdoor courtyards and gardens. Basically, this place was like a world of its own. 

I averted my attention back to Cherry while she merely kept her eyes on a very interesting painting on the wall, ignoring my penetrating gaze. Cherry was used to me arguing about everything and anything under the sun involving Lewis. She was, technically, the only friend I could talk to about my unrequited feelings. 

“Don’t start,” she began, taking another bite of toast. “I can already feel your angry magic on my skin. It’s disgusting.” 

I scoffed, “Good morning to you, too.” 

“Arturo, I get you’re annoyed that this is happening. But there’s a better way to go about the situation,” she said, pointing that buttered toast at me. 

“How?” I tested. 

She pushed a plate of breakfast to my side of the table. Bacon, eggs, toast, potatoes—all appeared whilst a side of orange juice slid near the dish as well. The perks of attending a magical school. 

“You can confess that you’re in love with him,” Cherry demanded more than said. 

I scoffed once again, much to her annoyance. “That’s the last thing I aim to do.” 

She pursed her red lips at me, clearly finished arguing one-sidedly. Even this early in the morning her makeup was perfect.

“Why don’t you want him to know?” she questioned, even though she’d asked me this millions of times. I never gave her a proper answer, most likely because I didn’t know the answer myself. 

I shrugged. “What makes you believe Williams would ever like me?” 

She sighed. “You’re right. He’s probably got some uppity, high-class lover waiting for him at his big scary mansion.” 

I cringed at the thought. “Don’t remind me.” 

“C’mon, Arturo. You’re both nineteen. It’s your last year. Confess to him, and then make out in some dungeon,” she droned. 

I rolled my eyes at her. 

Lewis and I had both been held back one year because we nearly (no, definitely) blew up the Potions classroom in our eighth year. We were competing to see who’d be the fastest to finish our project, but in the end we’d only won detention for a month, another year at Hiraeth, and the disapproving look of our Potions instructor and the one eyebrow he didn’t lose. I was surprised that anyone escaped alive. 

“Or take your pick,” she waved to the other students eating breakfast around us. “Aren’t you, like, popular or something?” 

“I get it,” I replied. “I don’t need you to remind me.” 

“I’m sorry you hate being popular,” she said amusedly, finishing off her toast with one last bite. “Honestly, I’m starting to think Lewis Williams is the only student in this school that doesn’t like you.” 

“There’s you,” I reminded her. 

“That’s because I only like girls, Arturo. Shut up,” she said. 

“Okay, okay.” 

We reverted to silence after a while of letting the conversation die. She was right, it was too early in the morning to discuss a one-sided romance. And so, I dug into my plate of breakfast, following the old routine of school all over again. 

It was weird, because I wasn’t even supposed to be there, considering I’d been held back a year. Though I wasn’t complaining. Hiraeth was like a second home. I was going to miss it when I had to leave. I was going to miss a lot of things. Especially— 

“The hero falls in love with the misunderstood guy,” she droned, tone of voice pricking at me like needles. “Where have I heard that one before?” 

This time, I pointed my toast at her, “I thought we were finished talking about this.” 

“Why would we be finished? You look like Hell,” she said, eyeing me in concern. “Did the Weeping Tower not meet your standards for sleeping?” 

I sat back. Last night I hadn’t slept in that tower at all. I wasn’t going to tell Cherry because I knew how angry she’d be about it. 

“No . . .” was all I said. 

She must’ve caught that, because she furrowed her perfect brow, “Arturo . . .” 

“What?” 

“Were you wandering the halls again?” she questioned. Cherry could read right through me. 

I stuffed a few eggs into my mouth and waited to answer, letting the words inside me jumble into an awkward, “I always do.” 

“Yes,” she said. “You do that to follow him around like he’s up to something evil.” 

“Maybe he is.” 

“He is not. You’re just obsessed,” she accused, fisting her hands on the table. 

I didn’t disagree. Part of me knew that following Lewis around like that was natural. Most of the time he was involved in trouble. I’d caught him a few times using dark magic over the years. But in the end, it wasn’t like I was entirely obsessed with him. No way. 

“I can’t sleep in the same room as him,” I confessed. “I just . . . can’t. I know he’ll try to kill or make a fool out of me. He’s always wanted to do that.” 

Cherry stared at me, expression blank. “I thought it’d be a dream for you.”

“Well, it’s not,” I said. 

She grabbed my plate, preventing me from taking a bite of a potato. “Arturo, you have to sleep.” 

“I know.” 

“The competition’s already started. You know that,” she lectured, taking a piece of bacon from my dish. I didn’t complain.  

I knew what she was trying to do. Cherry was trying to get my head in the game. She’d been with me on countless escapades and quests, she knew what I was like, more so than anyone else. 

This entire routine though, of living in Hiraeth, had me reverting back to my old self— the boy who needed to stop evil. And evil, unsurprisingly, came in the form of a nineteen year old with glasses who liked to instigate fights. 

And maybe Lewis wasn’t evil. I’d thought that before. But if that was the case, why was he so secretive about everything? 

What was Lewis Williams trying to hide from me? 

“Maybe he likes you too. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t killed you yet,” Cherry said, quite out of the blue. “Maybe he’s not evil, Arturo.” 

At that observation, I swiped the bacon from her red, polished fingers. “If that were true, we’d know.” 

Oh, we’d definitely know. 

We grew up with Lewis. There was no way he’d ever . . .