Tick, tock, tick, tock – the sound of the clock above the blackboard seemed to drill into her skull. The girl didn't blink; she was sitting perfectly still at her desk with her eyes fixed on the second hand as it moved forward, ticking.

She knew exactly how many minutes were left in the period. And yet, when people started putting their things away, it caught her by surprise. The buzzing of backpacks being zipped began to sound, chairs being dragged back, and laughter spilling into the hallways as the real world returned to normal.

She got up slowly, putting her notebook in her backpack and sliding her pen into its usual loop. As she did it, she felt that familiar sensation of being watched.

She glanced sideways to confirm her suspicions. From the other side of the classroom, a boy was staring at her fixedly. When their gazes met for barely a second, he smiled sarcastically and looked away, pointing at her with his thumb.

“Did you see the way she looked at us?” he said, not bothering to lower his voice, he even seemed to be speaking loudly on purpose.

“She always does,” replied the girl half-distracted checking her phone.

“Maybe she should just stay home if she’s gonna drop dead any second.”

“... That’s dark,” the girl said, not even looking up.

“No, I'm being honest. It's weird, nobody knows what's wrong with her. She just looks... bad.”

She didn't say anything to them, she just kept walking towards the classroom door, gripping the strap of her backpack tighter with each step.

They always talked like she wasn’t there. It felt like her illness had stripped her of her humanity, reducing her to a rumour, or a curiosity to be whispered about behind cupped hands.

Of course, they would never say it to her face.

She kept her gaze fixed ahead as she walked through the corridors. 

She remembered hospitals, white walls and the scent of disinfectant in the air, machines that beeped, rooms full of soft-voiced doctors who avoided eye contact more and more each year.

No diagnosis or name ever appeared. Only vague suggestions and scribbled theories that changed with inconclusive test results.

Years passed, and she gave up before they did.

She had learned that whatever lived inside her didn't want a name. It wasn't something they could cut out or cure, it was something else, and it wasn't going anywhere.

So she adapted. She didn't trust her body, and it didn't trust her. She stopped trying to be normal, stopped pretending she had time. There was no room for friends, no reason to let people get close, of course not when everything slipped through her fingers.

It wasn’t like anyone would want to anyways.

She shifted the weight of her backpack against her sore shoulder. Her chest contracted as she took a deep breath, but she didn't stop.

Suddenly, she was shaken to one side by an unexpected impact, startling her.

Her backpack slipped off her shoulder, and papers scattered away. She looked back, but the man who had hit her didn't stop; he just muttered, “Watch it” over his shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

Her gaze fixed on the mess, but she didn’t react. She didn't really care what happened to her anymore. She crouched down slowly to pick up the pages, her hands moving before her mind could process anything.

She looked up.

Him.

She knew who he was. Most people did, that was sort of the whole thing with him. Yves Desaulniers, the kind of face that rooms adjusted to. He was looking at her now with an expression that had been thought about, which was the part she found most interesting, because the last time she'd seen him he hadn't had that expression at all.

She looked back at the floor and kept picking up papers.

“Seriously?” he said, shaking his head. “Some people are just born without manners, huh?”

She said nothing.

He kept picking up her papers. Unhurried about it, his rings making small sounds against each other.

“I didn’t need your help,” she muttered.

“Well, I needed to help you,” he responded, showing her another smile. “Keeps my hero stats up.”

She glared at him. “We aren't friends, Yves. You don't even know me.”

His eyebrows pulled up in the middle, a kicked-puppy look, while that stupid smile stayed on his face. 

“I’m working on the 'not friends' part,” he said, his voice dropping just enough to sound sincere. “And I know enough to start, I know your name is Juno. I know we’ve sat in the same lecture hall for an entire semester. That counts for something, doesn't it?”

She kept her expression. She had to tilt her head back to look at him, since he was tall, and used that without seeming to think about it.

Then he extended his hand slightly, offering the stack of papers like he was finally giving in. Juno frowned in suspicion, but she reached for them anyway. 

And just as she was about to take the papers, Yves pulled them back, making her lean forward slightly to follow the movement, suddenly much closer to him than she'd intended.

He looked down at her, that maddening smile on his face, clearly pleased with himself.

Her face twisted involuntarily, her nose scrunching, lips pulling back slightly. What is he even doing?

She pulled back immediately, putting distance between them.

His smile widened. Her obvious disgust didn't discourage him; it seemed to feed him. His eyes practically sparkled.

“So,” he said casually. “Do you believe in fate, Juno?”

Juno blinked up at him, her frown deepening. “What?”

He tilted his head, pretending to think. “Or maybe it's cosmic timing. Your things fall, I appear. There’s clearly a higher force at work here, don’t you think?”

Juno didn't even blink. She just stared at him, her nose scrunching. “Do you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?” 

Yves let out a short laugh.

“Not yet,” he said playfully. “I’d let you do the talking if you gave me more than one-word answers.”

He leaned in just a fraction then.

“But I have to be persistent,” he added, his grin returning. “Because I’m about to make your day much more interesting.”

Juno arched a brow. “Just get to the point.”

He grinned wider. “Where’s the fun in that?”

She didn't respond, just waited with her arms crossed. She really just wanted her papers so she could leave, but he was still holding them like some kind of bargaining chip.

Yves rocked back on his heels. “Okay, fine, fine. If you must know…”

He made a dramatic pause.

“There’s a party tonight,” he said. “Birthday thing. Low-key.”

Juno stared at him. The hallway felt too loud around them out of a sudden.

“You should come,” he added.

An internal alarm went off in Juno. Something unpredictable had just slipped into her carefully managed world. She simply stared back at him.

What did he actually want?

“Why are you telling me this?”

He shrugged slightly. “Thought you might want to.”

“You thought I might want to go to a party.”

“Yeah.”

“With you.”

“With a lot of people,” he corrected. “I’d just be one of them. Though I’d be the one who invited you.”

Her face didn’t change.

He was still holding her papers, clutching them just tight enough to keep her there, even if he was doing a decent impression of someone who wasn't particularly invested in her answer. It would have been more convincing if he hadn't just spent the last few minutes being a persistent shadow.

Juno felt the irritation prickling under her skin. She looked at his face, then at the papers, then back at him. She wasn't sure what was worse: the possibility that this was some elaborate joke, or the fact that he clearly thought she was stupid enough to fall for it.

She saw his grip loosen just a fraction as he waited for her to say yes, his expression full of that maddening, hopeful expectation.

She didn't give him the chance.

In one quick motion, she reached out and snatched the stack from his hand. He was so surprised he didn't even try to hold on, his fingers staying frozen in the air where the papers had just been.

She slung her backpack over her shoulder and looked him dead in the eye.

“No,” she said.

She turned and started walking before he could even blink, leaving him standing in the middle of the hallway with his empty hands still hovering in the air.

Yves blinked. “Wait– what?”

“I said no.”

He stood frozen for a heartbeat, then hurried after her, his long legs catching up easily, though he nearly stumbled over his own feet trying to keep his eyes on her.

“Hold on– what do you mean, no?”

“I mean no, Yves,” she said without looking at him. 

“You didn’t even think about it!” He was walking beside her now, his pace frantic compared to hers. “Do you… do you just not like parties? Is that it?” 

“I don’t like being a joke.” Her voice dropped an octave. “I know what this is. A novelty. A bet to see if the sick girl actually shows up. You’re bored, and you want to see if I’m stupid enough to fall for a bit of attention.” 

“What?” His voice cracked slightly. “No– what? Juno, are you serious?” 

She just kept walking avoiding his gaze.

“I’m not like that,” he said quickly, his usual charm completely gone. “I didn’t ask you as a joke. I just thought…” He exhaled, the smooth script finally running out. “I just thought you could use a night that wasn’t… whatever your nights usually are.”

Juno stopped. He stopped a half-step after, nearly overshooting her.

She turned and looked at him properly. A small wrinkle appeared between his brows, and his mouth was doing something uncertain. She’d seen it before, once, in a moment he probably thought no one had witnessed, and she hated that her mind had filed it away so clearly.

“My nights are fine,” she said. “And I didn't ask for your read on them.”

“You’re right.” He held up a hand. “That was out of line. I’m sorry.”

She stared at him. He didn’t look away, which was mildly annoying because most people did. He just stood there, looking like a kicked puppy who was still trying to wag its tail.

“You ask people like me to parties?” she asked.

He blinked, looking genuinely baffled. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Juno stared at him for a second, shocked. She scoffed, shaking her head as she looked away and started walking again. “Whatever. You’ll get over it.” 

“Juno, please– just… wait.”

The please caught her off guard. It wasn't how people like Yves Desaulniers were supposed to talk to people like her. She stopped.

“Look, I’m not sure I will get over it,” he said. “And I didn't mean to give the impression that I was... playing with you. Or that this is some kind of game. I just thought maybe you’d like to have some fun for once. Real fun.” 

She looked at him, and something in his face threw her off. She'd been waiting for the moment when he'd laugh and turn away, but it wasn't coming.

She wanted to keep saying no, to walk away and forget this conversation ever happened. But deep down she was tired of being the girl people whispered about, tired of watching life happen around her while she stood on the outside like a ghost. And here was someone asking her to step inside for once.

And he has tried before, multiple times. If this was a joke, wouldn't he have given up by now? Wouldn't he have laughed with his friends and moved on after the first rejection, the second?

Maybe it was a mistake. It probably was. But something in her chest twisted at the thought of saying no again, of going home to another empty evening, of letting fear win while she waited for the inevitable.

She looked away and let out a long, defeated sigh. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll go.”

Yves went very still. “Seriously?”

“Don’t make it weird.”

“I’m not– yeah. Okay.” He pulled out his phone, his fingers nearly tripping over the screen. “I’ll send you the details.”

“I’ll give you my number,” she said, because the thought of him having to search for it again was exhausting.

“I have it,” he said quickly.

She stopped. Her eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

“The research group mailing list,” he said, the words tumbling out as he tried to look innocent. “Last semester. It’s in the student directory, it’s public information, I just… I had to look something up once and I remembered it.”

Juno stared at him. Of course he did.

“I’ll see you tonight, Juno,” he said, and this time his smile was genuine, a bit nervous, and completely human.

He turned and walked away, and she noticed he almost walked into a pillar because he was too busy looking back at her.

She watched him go, her hand tightening around her backpack strap.

“...Whatever,” she muttered, to no one.

But deep down, she knew the truth. She didn't belong at a party, that wasn't her life. It was for people with open futures and stable heartbeats.

Juno and Yves character sheets!