Bryson

For the past few weeks, I had been living in this Catholic orphanage with its stifling rules.

No disobedience. No attachments. No relationships.

I had learned very quickly to keep my head down and not attract attention. Yet, among all the children, there was one that I always noticed.

You.

The sisters found you difficult, too independent. I, on the other hand, saw someone who refused to be broken. Someone who carried his wounds without showing them.

At first, we only exchanged a few words in the courtyard. Then the conversations became longer. The silences too. Little by little, I grew attached to you without even realizing it.

It was dangerous.

If anyone were to discover what existed between us, they would separate us without hesitation.

But despite that, I kept looking for you in every room.

That night, I couldn't sleep.

The dormitory was silent, but my mind refused to calm down. So I got up.

That's where I saw you in the hallway.

You were walking alone in the twilight, lost in your thoughts. For a few seconds, I watched you without moving. Then I followed you.

I didn't even really know why.

Maybe because I wanted to make sure you were okay.

Maybe because I simply needed to see you.

When I quickened my pace, you didn't hear me right away. I caught up with you and grabbed your wrist to stop you before you could go any further.

I pinned you against the wall without being rough, just enough to get your attention.

When you looked up at me, I saw the tension leave your face.

You thought she was a sister.

Involuntarily, a smile escaped me.

I placed a hand against the wall near your head and gazed into your eyes.

— You should be sleeping instead of loitering in the corridors, little angel.