song of the chapter: tear in my heart by twenty one pilots (duh)
a/n: EVERYONE i cannot believe this story has nearly 12k reads!! thank you for all the love and i send it back fully<3 to celebrate, here is a chapter in our beloved steven meeks' pov! enjoy hehehe
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
The day school resumed during the Autumn of 1959 was one to remember for a relatively shy, redheaded boy. As he sat quashed in between his two, yawn-worthy parents - that he still loved despite the severe lack of stimulating conversation - Headmaster Nolan announced a change that uprooted the otherwise monotonous life at Welton Academy for boys.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I present the first female scholar ever to be accepted to study at Welton Academy, Miss (y/n) (l/n)." His voice rang out, sparking immediate hushed gossip amongst parents who thought it highly wrong that she'd been admitted.
"Oh, heavens," his father scoffed, glaring at the older man standing before the room "what next? Are they going to let the Black folks study here too?" His mother looked at his father incredulously, forever a silent feminist victim of the system.
Not that Steven Meeks would admit to understanding that fact about her, though.
"Sounds awful, dear." she agreed quietly, and Meeks rubbed his glasses on his coat to better squint at the girl sitting many rows in front of him. While he's staring on in shock, she turns around and waves to the crowd - a tentative, kind smile plastered onto her pretty face.
At a first glance, she seemed very socially awkward and almost as if she wasn't sure how to act, but he admired the proud way she held herself even though he knew she could hear the rude whispers.
Once the ceremony had ended, he was nearly swept away in the crowd by his ever so fretful dear mother, but not before he got a glance of the mysterious girl being talked to by one of the Welton mothers. Judging by the girl's face, it seemed she faced a challenge and was... pretending? She was pretending confidence, obviously this woman scared her.
Inside, some tiny part of him wished to step in, defend her, simply because he understood what it was like to be talked to by the adults around here.
However, he got the feeling she was not the type of girl who needed anyone to save her, not even from angry, entitled wives and mothers.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Finally, after all the adults had left the gentlemen - and lady - to get settled in before studies began the next day, Mr. Perry's unprecedented appearance at the dorm led the particularly weird group of Welton pupils finally meeting her - officially.
"I-I'm Knox Overstreet." the boy stuck his hand out, obviously not aware that his lack of social skills when it came to girls was shining through like a lantern in the dark. The girl flashed that smile again, the one that Meeks guessed drew every boy she'd ever met crazy.
"Meeks." the brown-eyed boy spoke up, stepping up beside Knox so they could meet without him hiding behind someone else. Not this time, he thought. No hiding this time. "Steven Meeks, that is." The girl glanced around awkwardly before responding.
"Hi," her accent sounded like ancient music, the kind that poems are written about. After a moment of silence, (y/n) pointed to his glasses, which he never felt quite self confident in. "I like your glasses."
The boy in question smiled at her gratefully, hoping he wasn't blushing. Not that he ever would, how absurd of a notion.
"Oh, well thanks!" He muttered, fully aware that everyone else was watching.
He found, though, that not a sliver of him cared.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Like most young people do, Meeks often daydreamed of his future. His parents had pretty much set everything out for him - all he had to do was not fail his classes. Then, it'd be off to Yale and then into his father's business, every day of the next 40 years were set in stone.
And still, he found his brain creating entirely unplausible scenarios to keep him from going completely insane. After the first few days of knowing her, Meeks discovered that plenty of his involved (y/n): sneaking into the library to read under a table, bringing her flowers, letting her read to him have favorite novels.
Seeing her during Latin and English were his favorite parts of the day, watching her try to decode a particularly difficult set of verb conjugations honestly made him nearly laugh most days - the way she bit her lip and made faces down at her paper, scrawled on by her fountain pen.
Times like that, the world seemed golden.
Times where Spaz was sneezing himself to death, however, were not. During their first English lesson, he recalled, the constantly-sick boy blew his nose, scaring the girl.
And she, in turn, stumbled backwards into Meeks and mashed his glasses onto his face as if he waltzed right into a brick wall.
"Agh!" his voice was quiet, but didn't fail to relay his surprise and discomfort.
"Oh, Meeks, I'm so sorry!" Her ink-stained fingers flew about wildly, releasing the energy her words seemed unable to. "Here, let me."
With a feather-light touch, she took the glasses off their askew position and fixed them, wiping away a smear with her sweater sleeve. Meeks knew his normally pale cheeks were tinged a red hue, which the girl in front of him stared at - then promptly ignored.
Meeks wasn't sure if he should be hurt she didn't seem to care, or relieved she didn't notice.
However, when she was leaning over his shoulder to get a better look at the hymnal they were sharing, he found it nearly impossible to focus on the words of the lecture when her rosewater and jasmine scent filled the air around him. Not only that - but her bookbag smelled like it was full of ancient texts, comforting and like home.
"Carpe Diem, that's seize the day." Steven answered this to keep him tethered into reality, in his body as the recognized class know-it-all. Turns out, (y/n) had planned on answering that question as well - only to be beaten by her other half of the Latin duo.
When she stuck her tongue out at him, a motion so childish yet so (y/n), the poor boy couldn't keep his heart from skipping a beat.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
"Radio Free America!" Meeks exclaimed mischievously, proud that his little radio project finally got a signal. It was a rather chilly day in late October, so he'd donned a navy blue cap to hide his auburn locks from the chilly wind. They'd been up on the terrace for hours, hiding away to avoid going to extracurriculars in favor of their lifeblood - music.
(y/n), looking like a forest nymph in the perfect shade of mossy green, had been the one to get the signal - thanks to hanging off the side of the building. "Not Paul Anka?" the girl pouted, fingers now uncrossed. But he knew, just judging by how she talked about music, that she was appreciative of anything they got to hear.
Pitts grabbed Meeks' hand, spinning his best friend around in circles and dancing with only the enthusiasm that their youth and freedom could cause them to. Though he had his dark eyes closed for majority of their little party, through the cracks of his eyelids Meeks could just barely make out (y/n) sitting on the raised wall, head thrown back and laughter echoing off the stone.
"Dance with us!" He called, extending her a hand. The girl groaned, as if dancing with him were the worst idea in the universe. For a moment, his heart twanged at her expression, but when her scowl melted into a broad smile - all was forgotten.
They twisted and spun, giggling until they felt sick. And then, of course, they spun some more. He gently grabbed her smaller hand in his, and spun her how he imagined princesses were spun in fairy tales, all raw beauty and euphoria. She squealed with a laugh, and he felt the chill evaporate, instead feeling full of life like a drunken man on brandy.
"Steven Meeks," God how he adored her accent when she cooed his name, pulling him in for a very disorganized round of the waltz. "you've got moves." It was his turn to chuckle, covering up yet another blush. Curse his pale complexion, it would certainly be the death of him.
Unless, she was - of course.
"Only for you." he mumbled, his cheek resting gently against her soft hair that tickled his nose just enough to be amusing. If a young man such as himself should ever wish to take a picture of one moment, and live in it forever - this was it.
The world of Welton was far below, all that existed was them.
Until he realized that Pitts was still on the roof, but thankfully he had the music still in his ears and didn't appear to have been paying attention. Shortly after coming to that conclusion, he came to another.
They hadn't been dancing to music, the world was silent save for assorted chatter that seemed miles away. They'd simply danced together, like elements in a chemical reaction.
If you asked Meeks, they were dancing to the sound of each other, and her music was unlike any other he'd ever heard. Oh, how he would pay anything, anything, to make it into a record and fall asleep with it playing every night.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
a/n: i feel like this chapter is so ooshy-gooshy almost too wattpad romance-y but gUESS WHAT? i love steven meeks more than anything and i feel like he'd be super romantic and definitely think like this. and no, i def did not almost make myself cry with my own writing its just so pureeeee
also if anyone's noticed time discrepancies i'm very sorry the movie timeline is so confusing so i'm just going with my own flow here lolzies<3