𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 (𝟖𝟎𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐬)

𝐥𝐱𝐯𝐢𝐢𝐢 ~ 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐩𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲

~ PItts sees you in your dress for the first time ~

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The night of the gala is upon you and you are, in short, fried. Your friends have all finished with their bustling, deciding to go as a group and leaving you to fend for yourself with Gerard. You frantically do your hair and put on some light makeup, wondering if you look any better than in school. Your mother shipped out one of her old prom dresses to Welton and you have fallen in love with it; a sleek satin dress in a pale blue color that brings out your features and accentuates your frame.

You are in the middle of trying on different shoes when Margaret pokes her head into your dorm. "[Name]? Gerard is asking for you."

Your heart freezes and, in panic, you stutter, "Tell him I'm almost ready."

Margaret nods and shuts the door again, leaving you to decide on a pair of shoes that somewhat matches with your dress. Touching up your hair one last time and applying your last coat of lipgloss, you open the door and standing patiently is Pitts, dressed up in a clean suit of his own, complete with a dark blue tie that compliments his eyes and a small flower in his hand. You smile and blush when a look of utter shock flashes over his face, making his hand slack at his sides and his eyes widen a little.

"You . . ." he trails off, taking in your whole body. You laugh a little and he smiles back. "You're gorgeous. Stunning. Beautiful."

"And you are quite the poet," you say with a cheeky grin, making him blush harder. He stares at you for a moment longer, entranced, before thrusting the flower forward.

"Here," he mumbles. "I know they're you're favorite, so I bought you one."

You take the flower gently and walk back inside, setting it gently on your nightstand before meeting him in the hallway again and closing your door. "Shall we?"

"We shall."

The dance is just as fun as you imagined. The music is actually mediocre, the dancing is fun, and the food tastes delicious. You and Pitts talk a lot about your lives and he ends up telling you the story of how he found out he liked you.

"We were sitting in English one day and Mr. Keating asked us to write a poem about the thing we cared about the most," he says. You laugh a little at his words and he blushes. "What? It's true. Anyway, he asked us to write that poem and I couldn't stop thinking about you.  I mean, we never really had any real conversations up until that point, but I knew I wanted to get to know you better. You're too brilliant for me to pass you by."

You blush heavily and push his shoulder a little. "Gee, got me feeling all sentimental, Pittsie."

He chuckles and then takes a sip of the fruit punch. The two of you listen to the music and stand in silence, enjoying the others company and sneaking glances at your partner over the rim of your cups.

Eventually, the two of you agree it's getting far too hot in the dining hall, so you sneak away from the teachers and the students and sit on the front steps of Welton Academy. Despite the cool weather and the slowly falling snow, you feel warm, your shoulders brushing comfortably.

The two of you chat for a little longer, just existing peacefully, when you find yourself sinking back into silence. A moment goes by and you glance to your left at Pitts' face, which is turned to yours with a struck look on his face.

"What?" you ask with the hint of a laugh in your voice.

"[Name]," he whispers, his breath steaming the air in front of you. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

Your face heats up at the question and your mouth falls open a little. Pitts waits, his face dropping with every passing second of your silence until you nod slowly. "Yes."

He smiles a little and looks down at his feet, turning to look at you again and then smiling wider. You put a hand on his cheek and lean forward, pressing your lips to his in a sweet kiss.

If only I had known this was how it was always meant to be.