Scarlet walked into class that morning without saying a word. Her usual seat by the window felt colder, and the morning light hit her table differently. She dropped her bag with a bit more force than necessary, sank into her chair, and glared at the whiteboard like it had personally insulted her.
Rudd picked up on it. He always did. But today, her silence had a heavier weight. Something wasn't right. Her body language said it all—she was gripping her pen too tightly, her jaw twitched slightly, and her fingers trembled as she struggled to unzip her pencil case. She looked like Scarlet, but there was something beneath that calm surface in turmoil.
He wanted to say something. Really, he did. But Rudd had never been great at asking questions or confronting anyone. He preferred to stay back, safe in his bubble of observation. Yet, the way her eyes were fixed on the board while seeing nothing pulled him out of his comfort zone.
After class, he caught up with her in the corridor, where sunlight streamed through the cracked glass panels and dust floated lazily in the air.
"Hey," he said quietly.
She didn't answer right away but eventually replied, "Hey."
He hesitated before asking, "You good?"
Scarlet gave a half-hearted nod and a forced smile. "Yeah, just tired."
"Tired," he echoed, as if that one word could unlock everything.
She glanced at him for a brief moment before looking away. "Ever feel like… everything's just noise? Like everyone's talking, but no one's really saying anything?"
Rudd blinked. That wasn't what he expected. "Sometimes."
There was a pause.
She sighed deeply. "Never mind."
But Rudd didn't budge. "You don't have to explain. If you ever need someone to sit with while everything's noisy… I'm here."
For just a moment, her guard slipped. She didn't smile, but her eyes softened, as if she wasn't used to someone just being there without offering a solution.
"Thanks," she said quietly.
Later that afternoon, the class buzzed with excitement over the upcoming Open Day. Teachers were casually mentioning it—an entire day for parents, staff, and even ex-students to mingle on campus. But for the students, it was about something more: a break from the usual routine. A chance to just breathe.
Jokes flew around the room, but Scarlet stayed quiet, her head bent over her notes. Rudd was now sitting a couple of chairs away, but he wasn't really paying attention to the chatter. He was focused on her.
She looked like someone waiting for something— or someone—to finally go right.
During break, Scarlet skipped her usual spot. Rudd glanced around before spotting her in the library, of all places, sitting between two tall shelves with an unopened book resting on her lap. It was odd seeing her there. Not because she didn't belong—she absolutely did—but because she wasn't reading. She was just staring.
He didn't approach; he stood a few feet away, pretending to search for something on the shelf. Her expression was distant—not exactly sad, but just…far away.
He let her be.
Later that day, she found him sitting alone behind the science block, doodling aimlessly in the corner of his notebook.
"You followed me earlier," she said, jumping right in.
His head snapped up. "What?"
"In the library. I saw you."
Feeling embarrassed, he rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry. I didn't mean to be weird. I just—"
"I never said it was weird," she cut in.
A moment of silence passed. Then, she sat beside him on the low cement bench, their shoulders just brushing against each other. Close. Closer than they'd ever been.
Rudd felt his chest tighten.
She looked ahead, not at him. "My mum left again."
His breath caught somewhere in his chest.
Scarlet continued, her voice almost too calm. "She does this. Just leaves. Says she needs 'space.' Like the house isn't big enough for all her thoughts."
He didn't know what to say.
"It's not the first time," she said, "but it still sucks."
Rudd stared at the cracks in the ground. "That's… a lot."
"Yeah," she agreed. "It is."
Now she turned to him. "You ever wish things were easier?"
"All the time."
"Me too."
The sky overhead was starting to dim, that soft gray signaling impending rain. But neither of them moved.
"I usually don't tell people this stuff," she said, her voice low. "But I think… I trust you."
He met her gaze. "I'm glad."
There was a pause—one that felt like it could lead anywhere if either of them just spoke the right words.
But they didn't.
She stood up, dusting off her skirt as if it'd picked up imaginary dirt. "I'll see you tomorrow, Rudd."
Hearing his name from her felt strange—but in a good way. Like something special.
"Yeah. Tomorrow."
He watched her walk away, feeling a mix of settling and unraveling deep inside.
Back home, it was loud, not with sounds but with tension. His parents were arguing in hushed tones again, this time about bills. His sister tried to drown it out with music, but Rudd could still catch every jagged word.
He sat in his room, notebook open, his pen unmoving. Scarlet's voice echoed in his mind.
"You ever feel like everything is just noise?"
He did. God, he really did.
And in all that noise, Scarlet was the only voice he wanted to hear more of.