Beneath The Crimson Gaze

The weekend arrived, and the school halls, once alive with chatter, were replaced by the quiet hum of home life. Alishia found herself curled up on the couch, her sketchpad balanced on her lap. Outside her window, the city buzzed with its usual rhythm, but her mind was somewhere else entirely.

Arthur Virelith.

She couldn't stop thinking about him—the boy who was invisible in school yet shone like a star outside its walls. The way his crimson eyes softened when he spoke, the quiet strength he carried, and the hidden vulnerability in his voice when he thanked her. Alishia had never met anyone quite like him, and the more she thought about it, the more she wanted to know him better.

Max, lying on the carpet beside her, let out a soft bark, breaking her reverie. His tail wagged furiously as he jumped up and trotted to the door. A moment later, the sound of the doorbell echoed through the apartment.

Curious, Alishia set her sketchpad aside and opened the door. Standing there was Arthur, his white hair catching the light streaming in from the hallway. He wasn't wearing his usual school glasses, and his casual attire—a fitted black shirt and dark jeans—emphasized his lean, athletic frame. He held a small grocery bag in one hand and seemed almost... nervous.

"Arthur?" Alishia blinked, caught off guard.

"Hey," he said, his voice calm but uncertain. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

She shook her head quickly, her surprise fading into curiosity. "Not at all. What brings you here?"

He held up the bag, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I bought groceries earlier, and I realized I still owe you a proper thank-you for the other day. I thought maybe I could help make dinner?"

Alishia's eyebrows shot up. Arthur Virelith... cooking? The idea was so unexpected that she found herself grinning. "You cook?"

"I survive," he said with a shrug, his faint smile widening into something more playful. "But I figured you could teach me. Fair trade?"

She laughed, stepping aside to let him in. "Alright, but don't blame me if it turns out terrible."

Arthur entered, his eyes briefly scanning the cozy apartment. It was warm and inviting, filled with personal touches—framed photos, soft cushions, and shelves overflowing with books and knick-knacks. Max, ever the welcoming host, sniffed at Arthur's leg before wagging his tail approvingly.

In the kitchen, Alishia tied an apron around her waist and handed another to Arthur. "Step one of cooking: don't ruin your clothes."

Arthur chuckled, tying the apron awkwardly. "Noted. So, what's on the menu?"

Alishia peered into the bag he'd brought. "Looks like you picked up some good stuff. How about pasta?"

"Sounds safe enough," Arthur agreed, his tone light.

As they worked together, Alishia found herself relaxing. Arthur was surprisingly easy to talk to, his dry humor and calm demeanor putting her at ease. He fumbled a bit with the knife, earning a few teasing remarks from her, but he took it in stride, his low laughter filling the small kitchen.

"So," she said, stirring the pot of sauce, "you've really changed, haven't you?"

Arthur glanced at her, his crimson eyes thoughtful. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... you're so different outside of school. Confident, easygoing. At school, you're like... a ghost."

He shrugged, his expression unreadable. "School's... complicated. People expect you to fit into neat little boxes. I just prefer to keep my head down."

Alishia nodded, sensing there was more to the story but choosing not to push. "Well, for what it's worth, I think you're pretty great just the way you are."

Arthur paused, her words catching him off guard. "Thanks," he said softly, his usual confidence giving way to something more vulnerable. "That... means a lot."

They finished cooking and set the table, the warm aroma of pasta filling the air. As they ate, the conversation flowed naturally. Alishia shared stories about her childhood and Max's antics, while Arthur revealed glimpses of his own life—his love for books, his late-night runs in the park, and his complicated relationship with his family.

By the time they finished, Alishia felt as if she'd peeled back a layer of Arthur's enigmatic persona. He wasn't just mysterious and confident—he was kind, thoughtful, and quietly brave.

As they cleaned up, Arthur glanced at her with a rare, genuine smile. "Thanks for letting me invade your evening."

"Anytime," Alishia replied, meaning it. "You're not so bad at cooking, by the way."

"High praise," he said with a chuckle. "Next time, I'll surprise you."

As he gathered his things to leave, Alishia walked him to the door, Max trotting at their heels. "Arthur," she said as he stepped into the hallway, "thanks for coming over. I had fun."

He turned, his crimson eyes meeting hers. "Me too," he said, his voice soft. "Goodnight, Alishia."

"Goodnight," she replied, watching as he disappeared down the hall.

Closing the door, she leaned against it, her heart fluttering in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying. Arthur Virelith was a mystery, but with every interaction, she found herself wanting to solve it more and more.

And maybe, just maybe, he wanted her to.