Seraphine

eight

Damien

He notices her as soon as she walks in the room--how couldn't he? She's late, which is not a trait Damien associates with the small girl. He started to worry when it was five minutes before the start of class and she hadn't shown up; that's how punctual she usually was.

Her long blonde hair is framing her face, and he misses the chance to look at her ocean eyes as she comes through the door with her head turned to the side. She completely ignores him, and he feels something twist in his heart.

Maybe that's why he stops talking and clears his throat.

Seraphine turns her head, and Damien has to keep himself from gasping aloud at her appearance.

Her eyes are bloodshot, rimmed red from tears. Her chin is quivering, her bottom lip trembling ever so slightly. Her shoulders are hunched from an obvious lack of sleep, and her moves are sluggish.

And yet, his darling girl still manages to send him a small smile that takes his breath away.

He's so enraptured by her appearance and finding out why she looks so devastated, so broken, that Damien only has half a mind not to cancel class right then and there and ask her what was wrong.

But then, she's looking away, and Damien remembers he has an entire class full of students to teach. He can't seem to bring himself to care even a tiny bit, however, as he watches her slowly move up the steps and find a seat in the middle of the third row. His eyes don't miss how she winces when sitting down, or how her hand trembles when it reaches into her bag.

What happened to you, Seraphine?

She finally looks up and nods at him, and he stares at her for a few moments more before nodding back and turning to the board.

Damien has trouble getting through the class, his body fully aware of Seraphine's gaze on his back, his mind running as he thinks of all the ways he could kill her date Luca told him about.

He isn't as good with psychology as Luca or Nico, but he knew when someone was hurting, when someone was struggling--and for Seraphine, every day was a struggle. He could only guess as to why that was, but from the way Luca talked about her date's reaction to her talking to her professor, he had a pretty good idea.

Once everyone leaves, he stands in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets as he lets his eyes drift over his darling. She's still doodling in her notebook, her eyes clouded. Her blonde hair is framing her face, and her shoulders rise and fall as she sighs quietly.

"Miss Thatch," he finally speaks after he's partially satisfied--with her, he already knew, he would never be fully satisfied. Not even if she were in a glass box on display for him and his partners, letting them stare at her all day and night.

He watches her as she blinks, turns her head, and flushes. His tongue darts out to lick his lips.

"O-Oh. Sorry, Dr. Brummer." She cleans up her desk, sniffling, and wipes at her eyes. Damien narrows his, immediately sensing her sadness, but plasters a smile on his lips as she walks down the steps towards him.

"Don't apologize, Miss Thatch. We can all get lost in our imagination sometimes. I hope you had fun doodling." His smile becomes more genuine as she blushes more, a soft smile gracing her pink lips.

"Would you accompany me on a walk, Miss Thatch? I have a...proposal for you."

He half expects her to say no, especially when her eyes widen, but to his pleasure, she gently nods.

Damien doesn't miss the way her gaze flits to the door, like she's expecting someone. There's a sour taste in his mouth as he thinks of her date, and he spins on his heel, heading towards his desk.