[Name] sighed and rested one hand on the side of her forehead, tapping the pencil gripped lightly in her fingers against her temple. Her other hand held up her homework assignment as she looked it over with fiery eyes. Write a poem by tomorrow?! How the hell was she supposed to do that?! Fortunately, Mrs. Hughes didn’t give the class a specific subject, so it could be about anything. But [Name] had no…no INSPIRATION. What was she supposed to write? A poem about nature or how the sky is blue or some shit? Boring. She growled and dropped her pencil on the desk, walking out of her room.
She got her own apartment when she started college, and she kept it rather tidy for a college student. With a defeated sigh, she slumped down on the couch and turned on the stereo. Loud rock music blared out of the speakers, and she turned it down a bit to avoid confrontation from the neighbors. She propped her feet up on her glass coffee table and nodded her head along to it. This was DEFINITELY inspiring to her, but writing such a poem would probably get her not only a 0, but she might get a detention.
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, and she turned off the stereo before she got up to answer the door. When she opened it however, there was nobody there. Emphasis on the noBODY. She looked down and saw a large, sky blue vase of red roses, along with a card. She looked up and down the hallway, trying to locate the person who gave them to her. But, she was the only one in the hallway. She picked up the glass vase and stepped inside, shutting the door with her foot. She set the flowers on her counter and read the note along with them.
“I will love you until the last rose fades.
~One of your classmates”
Well, THIS is cliché as hell. She rolled her eyes and placed the card on the counter. She only had one class now, and that was art. That narrowed it down, but there were still at least 15 guys in that class. She was at even more of a disadvantage since she didn’t know most of their names. There was that Eridan guy, but he was a total flirt (Douche), not the romantic, secret admirer type. Who else…there was that one shy boy, Tavros. He certainly seemed like the type to do something like that, but she was pretty sure Vriska was all over him. She didn’t know the names of any of the others.
She looked at the vase for a moment. There were 13 roses, instead of the usual 12. Upon closer inspection, she realized that one of the roses was artificial, while the rest were real.
“…Until the last rose fades…”
She giggled and picked up the vase, placing it on her coffee table and smiling. Okay, this just went from corny and cliché to adorable and cliché. Real fast. She took the card and read it again, trying to pick up on details. It was written in a bright, cherry red. Had it been Tavros, he would’ve used that chocolaty orange-ish brown-ish color. She didn’t really suspect him anyway. She also took note that it was handwritten. She smirked. PERFECT! All she had to do was observe the handwriting of all of her peers. Her mind trailed off to something else, and she got up, walking back to her room. She had found some of that inspiration she couldn’t seem to find earlier.
“…Visual and Language. All arts are connected, and you can only excel in one if you excel in both. That is why we write these poems. Who would like to go first?” [Name] raised her hand and Mrs. Hughes beckoned her to come to the front. She looked around the classroom slowly, taking in the faces of all the students. Some bored, some impatient, and some actually eager. ‘Ass-kissers.’ She thought before looking down at her poem and reciting it with her most composed, elegant voice.
“A secret that is not to be spoken,
A ruby red fire that has just been awoken,
with an arcane gesture, a gift of mystery
Without knowing its giver, or its history.
But take note, receiver, even though you feel hope is fleeting,
There are flaws in his note, his little written greeting.
His handwork is unique, a slight slant, and curved so,
You can find him, though a confrontation he would like to forgo.
Find them with cunning, with cleverness, well-played.
Find your admirer, who gives a rose unable to fade.”
After she finished, her pupils quickly darted up to observe the classes reactions. Most were stunned, others looked touched (Mostly the girls, who were squealing) But there was one boy, who sat right behind her. He looked just as shocked as most everyone else, but there was a bright pink blush spread across his cheeks. Her train of thought was interrupted by Mrs. Hughes clapping.
“Brilliant! Brilliant!” She cheered, taking the poem and writing an A on the top, next to an extra credit note. “You see class, THIS is how you excel in the field of arts.” She handed [Name] her paper, and she took it, smiling and returning to her seat. “Now, who’s next?”
The rest of the class recited their poems, and when that boy came to the front, Mrs. Hughes urged him on. “Go ahead, Karkat.” Karkat, huh? [Name] smiled and placed her elbow on the table, resting her chin in her palm. When he looked up at her, she winked at him knowingly. “Go on.” She mouthed. His face flushed a bright red and he read his poem with a shaky tone.
She smiled and watched him walk back up to his seat, blushing furiously. The bell rung after a while and Karkat sprinted out of the classroom and out of the building. [Name] followed quickly, catching up to him in a matter of moments and pouncing on him, taking him down to the ground. “Helllooooooo!” She squealed, smiling at his reaction.
“A-AH! WHAT THE FUCK?! WHY WOULD YOU CHASE ME OUT OF THE SCHOOL YOU CREEPY STALKE-“
“Did you send me those roses?”
“Maybe…” He grumbled, his eyes darting over to the side. She giggled and kissed him on the cheek, earning herself a blush.
“It was cute.” He growled and tried to move from under her, but she had him pinned.
“W-Whatever. Now let me up!”