The Light (Original Story)

Chapter One

September 2044

She walked down the corridor, and she was singing.

Every window she passed was barred, impossibly tall, with huge metal barriers criss-crossing the glass, locking them all in. She didn't mind too much, but she thought the guards and security cameras were a tad too much.

She passed the Notice Board, and although her singing faltered imperceptibly, she didn't stop. If anything, her song got happier. The sound was strange and a foreign thing to many of the younger students, who turned to stare at her with wide eyes.

Delphie Waters, small yet demanding in her presence, didn't silence her tune as she entered Intelligence, only quietened a little. Mr Rover smiled, a gesture she returned, until she faced the class.

Her expression dropped. It seemed that she was not the only one with the idea to arrive early to the first day of class, and her hands sweated as her eyes flicked to every student. There were only two empty chairs at the front of the room. Delphie wished she had gotten here sooner, and her singing trailed off when she realised who was missing.

Thomas Patience sauntered in a minute after the bell, which clashed horribly with the alarm in her head that got louder and louder, with each step he took.

He paused. His light eyes fell on her and Delphie admitted to herself that he was pretty. Long eyelashes, shoulder-length black hair that curled when it touched his chin, and lips that twined into a perfect grin when he caught her attention. His eyebrow quirked, hers furrowed.

"Alright, darling?" Thomas asked, slumping down into the chair beside her. The alarm turned shrill.

She pursed her lips, every sensible bone in her body advising her not to reply. Of course, she didn't listen. Though she didn't like to admit it, Delphie had a habit of not listening.

"I'm fine," she answered stiffly. "And don't call me darling."

He frowned at her, and continued to do so, even as Mr Rover wrote down the date and title on the board. "You don't like being called darling," he murmured conspiratorially, "do you darling?"

Delphie felt her eye twitch. "No."

"That's a shame," Thomas said, sighing dramatically and he flopped his head down on his arms. He peered up at her through his hair. "I do. And I think it suits you."

She merely scoffed. "Oh? And where did you get that absurd conclusion from?"

"Well, you're quaint," he said simply, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Delphie liked to think that she didn't blush, but she did, just like every other time he complimented her.

"Quaint?" She repeated and his smile made her stomach do backflips. It was a small and bashful one, laced with a confidence that highly contradicted the pink tinge of his cheeks.

"What? What's wrong with quaint?"

She didn't really know when it started. Just that two years ago, some poor, excitable child had run up to her, tugging on her skirt and claiming, in a squealing, breathless voice, that Thomas Patience (the Thomas Patience- General Patience's son) fancied her. The notion was preposterous, a silly rumour that she dismissed in disgust.

However, when multiple others informed her of the exact same thing, and Thomas started avoiding her with decided intent, Delphie's interest piqued and she idly wondered whether the gossips of twelve year olds held any truth whatsoever.

She had deliberated, naturally. There was nothing Delphie Waters did without careful and considerate deliberation, even if that deliberation was thrown out of the window when it came to acting upon it, and was set to confront him the next day. And then The Incident took place, and royally fucked things up, and she instead questioned how the hell she could ever even consider a boy like Thomas Patience. He had since asked her out seventeen times and counting in just under twenty four months. Katya liked to keep count, and even was accused of keeping a tally at one point (which she denied vehemently).