The night wraps around the Haul Academy like a velvet cloak, heavy with mist and the faint salt of the nearby cliffs.
It's past midnight, and the campus is dead quiet, save for the distant crash of waves and the occasional creak of old stone settling.
Rossie , a senior with too many thoughts to sleep has slipped out of her dorm, driven by the weight of exams and the nagging ache of her crush on Michael.
Their laugh from earlier today, bright and careless in the cafeteria loops in her mind, making her chest tight.
Her sneakers scuff against the cobblestones as she wanders past the west wing where ivy chokes the crumbling walls.
Then she sees something••••a faint silvery glow flickering through a tangled hedge like a secret begging to be found.
She pushes through the thorns, her sweater snagging, until she reaches a rusted iron gate. It groans as she nudges it open, revealing a garden that doesn't belong in a place like this. Vines twisted up, glinting faintly under the moon.
Flowers; moonflowers, jasmine, and strange blooms she can't name dimming pulse with soft light, silver and violet, like they're breathing.
The air is thick with jasmine and earth, heady and warm and curling into her like a whisper.
••Her heart skips, not from fear but from the feeling that this place is alive, watching her.•••
Then a figure rises from a bed of glowing moonflowers and she freezes her breath.
Lo ! The Midnight Gardener. "They're a shadow in a long, dark coat, blending into the night, a wide-brimmed hat tilted low to hide their face".
Only the sharp curve of their jaw catches the moonlight, and their gloved hands hold a luminescent bloom with care, like it's something precious.
A lantern at their feet spills golden light, making the flowers shimmer.
She braces for a scolding knowing she's not supposed to be here, sneaking out past curfew in a place tied to schoolyard rumors of lost love and strange magic.
But the midnight gardener doesn't yell tho.
They turned, slow and deliberate, and their eyes shadowed looking towards her as their eyes met.
The air shifts like the pause before a storm.
Their voice so low and smooth like a late-night radio song, breaks the silence.
"Well, well. She's not supposed to be wandering out here, you know." - they said.
There's no anger, just a teasing lilt, like they're amused she found them.
Rossie's mouth goes dry, but she manages a stammer. "I - I didn't mean to. I just… saw the light."
she shifts, suddenly aware of the chill biting through her sweater, the way her heart's thudding too loud.
They(The midnight Gardner) step closer as he walks silent on the mossy path and the lantern swaying in their hand.
The flowers seem to glow brighter as they move. "The light, huh?" they say, their tone playful, like they're calling her bluff. "Or maybe she's just restless. This garden's got a way of pulling in folks who can't sleep.
So, what's got her up, hmm?" they asked
She swallows, caught off guard by how easy they make it sound like they're old friends trading secrets.
"I don't know," she mumbles, glancing at the glowing flower in their hand. " I just Couldn't sleep, I have too much on my mind." She hesitates, then adds, "School. Exams. Stuff like that."
They tilt their head and she catches a flash of a smile under the hatsmall knowing like they see right through her.
"Stuff like that," they repeat, trying to drag out the words,like teasing. "Sounds like there's more to it than tests. Come on ; the midnight gardener in a soft voice.
What's really keeping her up?" They hold up the moonflower, its petals shimmering like liquid starlight.
•
Her cheeks heat up. No way she's telling a stranger about Michael,her crush and how their smile in history class makes her stomach flip.
Rossie was too scared to say more than two words to them.
But the Gardener's gaze, even half-hidden, feels like it's tugging the words out of her. "It's… someone," she blurts, then winces. "Someone I can't stop thinking about. Okay?"
Their smile widens, slow and warm, and her pulse trips over itself.
"Someone," they echo, their voice dropping, soft and suggestive, like they're savoring the word.
They step closer, and now she can smell them—jasmine, earth, something wild that makes her head spin.
They're close enough that she feels the warmth of them, but not so close she can't still feel the pull.
"That's a good start," they say. "Love's a heavy thing to carry alone. Does this someone know how they're haunting her?"
She shakes her head, clutching her sweater. "No. I…
Her voice is small, but saying it out loud feels like letting go of a breath she's held too long.
They hum, low and thoughtful, and hold out the moonflower.
"Take this, then," they say. As she reaches for it while their gloved fingers brush hers •••••slow, deliberate, the leather cool but somehow sparking heat where it touches.
The contact lingers, just a second too long, and her breath hitches. "Careful," they murmur, their voice a whisper now, like it's just for her.
"This flower's greedy for truths. Tell it more, and it'll shine brighter. Maybe it'll give her courage, too."
She clutches the flower, its warmth sinking into her hands, its glow pulsing like a heartbeat.
"Why do you care?" she asks, bolder now, the garden's strangeness making her reckless.
"Why are you out here, doing… this? Who are you, anyway?" she asked
They laugh at a soft and quiet sound that feels like a secret shared.
"Nosy, aren't you?" they tease, stepping back to kneel by another flowerbed, their hands moving with easy grace. "I like that. As for why…"
They pause, plucking a petal and twirling it between their fingers.
" People hide in the day behind smiles in pretence , rules, all that school nonsense. well…
Rossie frowns, not sure if they're dodging or answering. "That's not a real answer. And you didn't tell me who you are." she said again.
They glance up, and their eyes catch the moonlight, sharp and unreadable.
"Maybe I'm just a gardener," they say, smirking. "Or maybe I'm stuck here, tending to things that bloom where others don't.
If you want my name then you have to earn it.
Come back tomorrow night." They stand, brushing off their gloves, and the movement feels like a dismissal, but their voice softens.
"The garden's got more to say. And so does she, I bet."
She wants to argue, to press for more, but they turn, their coat sweeping like a shadow, blending into the vines.
"Wait" she starts but the midnight gardener is gone already.
She kept wondering what kind of creature is this , I must come back , she said as she moved out….
•••••√√