Rockstar

Today was a Monday, the most dreadful of all days, I know. You had to go to school of all places and it SUCKED. You wake up, your alarm already going off for. .what? The 3rd time now?. .

You look outside, the weather slowly shifting from Summer and slowly shifting to Autumn, the sunlight shining through your window. Birds were singing. . .flowers are blooming. . .days like this. . .kids like you. . .should be getting ready for school! You were about to be late!!

You put on the school mandated uniform and grab a candy bar from the cabinet (hidden away behind something healthy just so others in the house wouldn’t go looking for it) and you head out the door and go to the bus.

---

You arrived at school with 10 minutes to spare, so you lean against the cool metal of your locker, talking to your friend, Cherry Blossom Cookie, half-listening to her as browning leaves drift lazily through the open hallway windows.

The corner where the hall bends feels tucked away, safe. As if the rest of the school can’t quite reach you here. You laugh at something she says, voice echoing softly off the lockers, unaware of how every sound carries just a little farther than you think. You don’t notice the figure on the other side of the lockers, standing perfectly still at the bend in the hallway.

Rockstar Cookie doesn’t move because he doesn’t have to. From where he is, he can see the edge of your shoulder, the way you shift your weight, the exact moment your expression changes when you speak. He listens like your words are lyrics meant only for him, committing every detail to memory, breathing quietly so he doesn’t miss a single note.

You talk about your morning, about nothing important, and yet the air feels oddly tight, like you’re being watched, though when you glance around, there’s no one there. Rockstar’s fingers twitch at his side, itching for a guitar that isn’t with him, replaying your voice in his head instead.

He leans just enough to keep you in sight, eyes sharp, possessive, thrilled by how close you are without knowing it. Every laugh you share with Cherry Blossom Cookie sinks into him, twisting into something fierce and private. You think this is just another quiet moment between classes, but to him, it’s everything—a secret concert played just for him, with you at the center, completely unaware that you’re already his favorite song and how he plans to serenade you to be his. How he can keep you all to himself.

Him and him alone. The only one you need is him. Atleast that’s what he thinks, anyways.

Listening to your every word like a song lyric, words he commits to his memory, the ones he plans to put in a song and make into a lyrical masterpiece, he knows you more than you even know yourself. Your schedule, which way you go to get to different classes, your favorite genres of music, your likes and dislikes, he knows it all. .even the private stuff.