Work Text:
The computer’s glow lights up her face in a room that's always dark. Her eyes, red from so much crying, remain still. The weight of her broken heart hurts more than the light from her screen.
Two?… Five?… Maybe ten? She lost count of the minutes after the fifth message was sent; she didn’t read them.
But she's still online.
With her green pillow between her legs, she begins to trace unreadable patterns on the satin fabric. She glances at the screen every second, hoping for news. NOTHING YET.
The anxiety in her movements makes Rio Vidal hold back a scream of frustration in her throat, and the knot in her stomach grows heavier.
There are tears wanting to come back out. She grabs the corner of the soft pillow, puts it in her mouth, and bites down hard with her teeth… releasing a muffled cry that makes her lovely brown eyes turn white; red spreads across her sunken face.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Until her alarm rings: time to get up for school.
Another sleepless night spent thinking about her.
She manages to hide her heavy dark circles with black makeup, as dark as her hair. She doesn’t overdo it—just enough to push away the anxiety and anguish.
Her radiant smile appears the moment she walks into her classroom, making her classmates shiver as she walks between the desks to sit in her favorite spot—next to the window overlooking the football field, where the cheerleaders practice without fail every Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday at 10:30 AM.
Her confidence and authenticity leave the boys and girls in her group speechless.
Why is Rio Vidal always smiling—even in the worst moments?
Doesn’t she know what real pain is—physical and emotional?
"It makes me laugh more than it worries me."
That was always her answer to everything.
"You’re scary, Rio," says Jennifer Kale, her best friend, with complete honesty. “But I still love you…” That comment only makes the dark-haired girl laugh even harder.
"And I love you more..."
Another of her go-to phrases whenever she didn’t know what else to say.
.
.
.
The bell rings: announcing the start of the school day.
"Damn bells. First one this morning, now this one at school. One of these days they’re going to give me a heart attack! If word gets out that the Great Rio Vidal is afraid of bells, that’ll be terrible for my reputation. Even worse if Agatha Harkness finds out and loses interest in me."
POV Rio
Class is boring, and honestly, I wouldn’t understand a thing even if I were paying attention.
The only kind of focus I care about is watching the beautiful brunette girl jumping and flipping through the air in that tiny uniform that leaves little to the imagination.
“She moves so gracefully when she practices.” “She’s the best.” “Always so… unreachable up in the sky…”
I write on my profile wall on X. Just another thought that awakens the poet inside me whenever she gazes at her muse.
“PAY ATTENTION TO CLASS, VIDAL!” screams Professor Calderu at me.
It’s always the same rant with her—just ‘Blah, blah, blah…’
“STOP SPYING ON THE CHEERLEADERS AND FOCUS ON WHAT MATTERS!” she yells again, clearly annoyed.
Everyone in class bursts out laughing at Professor Lilia Calderu’s comment.
The corners of my lips curl up. “Sorry, professor. I just can’t help being a connoisseur of feminine beauty.”
I raise my arms in mock surrender and laugh with fake resignation.
[Everyone laughs even harder…]
The professor just glares at me and goes back to the lesson after silencing the rest of the class.
I actually like Lilia Calderu, but I think she needs to stop being so bitter and live a little.
She could really use a good make-out session to help her loosen up.
Coming home, I immediately check my phone—it had been buzzing nonstop the entire way.
I walk into my room, pull the phone out of my backpack, and unlock it:
65 likes, 30 reposts, and 15 comments from the user @Hark2307.
My heart stops…
Agatha Harkness has found out my secret.
“You really know how to notice the little details.”
That was the last comment she left on one of my posts, 15 minutes ago—
She’s one of the prettiest. She likes the color purple and rabbits. And me… I like her.
The phone vibrates with a new PRIVATE message from user @Hark2307:
@Hark2307:
At first, I thought it was a stalker when I was told someone had been posting things about me…
But now I can see who the real person is behind all the flattery.
Isn’t that right, Rio? 😋
@Green_Witch:
…
I want to reply… but nothing comes to mind.
I feel a burning heat run down my back.
I don’t know whether to cry, laugh, or just hide under the covers and never leave my room again.
Agatha knows. I’M SCREWED.
@Hark2307:
In case you’re curious, my rabbit’s name is Señor Scratchy 😊
And it’s true—I do like the color purple. It feels magical and mysterious to me.
And most importantly: Of course I’m pretty, gorgeous, brilliant, intelligent, and every single thing you’ve written about me!
I’m dying…
End of POV
A very fast-paced start to the communication between the two women—
all thanks to Agatha, who had no hesitation in sincerely validating all of Rio’s posts on X.
They would talk late into the night, sending each other gossip, poems, and songs.
School days were so busy with activities that the only thing they managed was to say hello and goodbye.
But they never stopped texting.
For some strange reason, both of them developed a fear of speaking to each other in public.
After all, they were both popular and kept up the standard of not letting others into their social circle too easily.
Rio truly wanted to ask her out, but her fear of rejection was always looming.
It should be easy to do something so simple, yet she always hesitated when it came to Agatha.
“You’re popular; so am I… and yet, you still feel so far away from me.”
@Hark2307:
On Tuesday I have a History exam with Professor Calderu, Friday is our last practice, and Saturday is the cheerleading competition at 9:00 AM. I hope we win 🤞
@Green_Witch:
Of course you’ll win. You’ve got the best cheerleader 😊
And what about the rest of the days? Do you still have classes?
@Hark2307:
Thank you, Rio 💜
No, my Math teacher got sick and won’t be coming in that week, and Professor Calderu won’t be teaching on Thursday because of an emergency. And on Sunday I’ll be home all day.
"It was the perfect chance to ask her out. No need to be afraid," she kept repeating in her head.
@Green_Witch:
It’s just that…
I wanted to know if you’d like to go out with me on Sunday?
@Hark2307:
…
…
…
…
…
Of course!.. I’d love to go out with you.
Her heart, already racing from anticipation, skips a beat with joy:
The girl she likes so much has just said yes to going out with her.
Sunday came, and Agatha never replied to any of Rio's messages to confirm the date.
[Saturday, April 17 — 12:00 PM]
@Green_Witch:
How was the tournament? Did you win?
.
.
.
.
.
[Saturday, April 17 — 3:30 PM]
@Green_Witch:
Are you okay?
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
[Sunday, April 18 — 8:21 AM]
@Green_Witch:
Hi. Good morning 😊 How are you?
.
.
.
.
[Sunday, April 18 — 11:34 AM]
@Green_Witch:
Sorry to bother you… I just want to know if you’re okay and if we’re still going out?
If not today, we can do it another day.
[Sunday, April 18 — 4:01 PM]@Hark2307 reposted your post: “You’re popular; so am I… and yet, you still feel so far away from me.”
[Sunday, April 18 — 4:02 PM]
@Green_Witch:
Are you still there?..
[Sunday, April 18 — 4:07 PM]
@Green_Witch:
😫😔
[Sunday, April 18 — 4:13 PM]
@Hark2307 shared a post
“She’s still active… but doesn’t want to answer me.”
POV Agatha
I’ve always been the center of attention; whatever I want, I get—and I toss it aside once I’m done with it.
Glances here, glances there… It’s always the same faces melting with desire for me.
But there’s been one that’s left me feeling shy: Rio Vidal’s.
She’s a year younger than me, we go to the same school, and ever since I first noticed her from a distance, she hasn’t stopped staring at me from the second-floor window while I’m practicing with the cheer squad.
"Am I the one you’re looking at?"
And there’s nothing I adore more than the eyes of that dark-haired girl fixed on me.
She’s not just physically beautiful—she’s always got a smile on her lips.
Even after getting into a fight with a senior girl for messing with some first-years during recess, she kept that same charm. That fight made several groups fear and respect her.
I got very turned on that day. She was so sexy and strong.
Alice, my best friend, called me one day. I was finishing warm-ups when, without even saying hello, she told me that anonymous quotes and poems dedicated to me were making the rounds on X. When I read them, I freaked out—because they contained details only Alice would know. That’s when I figured out who my mysterious poet was.
The username was @Green_Witch, and every day without fail, she’d post a thought or a moment where she’d been captivated by seeing me.
She said she liked me a lot, that I was beautiful and smart, but that she’d never dare confess it to me. That clue led me to my secret admirer.
Honestly, it was easy—because in one of her last posts, @Green_Witch had mentioned my love for rabbits, among other things.
No one knew rabbits were my favorite animal because I had only told Alice—when I got my rabbit as a gift. I remember we were talking outside the bathrooms (we were skipping class on purpose), and then Rio showed up… and our eyes met.
I felt something beautiful inside me.
I couldn’t stand knowing the truth for too long, so I sent her a private message—and from there, the rest was fun… and tragic.
We started talking, and I really liked her.
Rio is such a funny, sweet, loyal, bold, and intelligent person.
At first, our conversations were about rumors at school, homework questions, and relationship advice—until she started sending me songs and poems.
She never stopped telling me how beautiful I was and would ask about even the smallest detail of my day.
It took her a while to finally ask me out… and when the moment came, I chickened out: I was so scared to say yes and have it all fall apart—not because of her, but because of me.
I didn’t reply to her messages on Saturday.
But I worked up the courage and answered her in the middle of the night.
The problem is… those messages never reached her—I sent them to someone else by mistake.
I found out way too late… right when Dottie Jones (a classmate) replied, excited.
I think after this, Rio won’t want to talk to me or even see me again.
End of POV
"Rejection hurts, but there’s nothing more to be done."
Lying in her bed, the dark-haired girl was lost in her destructive thoughts. Her eyes were swollen and red. She wanted to stop crying, but her body wouldn’t respond.
The laptop was beside her, with the tab open on @Hark2307’s profile. She tortured herself by looking at her photos and the sweet messages, repeatedly wondering why she had been rejected.
"Life goes on. There’s no need to stop for just one person."
These are the moments when the mind wants to be positive; yet, all it does is highlight the bad.
"She probably realized you weren’t as pretty as she said."
"You weren’t good enough for her."
"She just wanted you for a little while."
And WORSE THOUGHTS.
She takes a deep breath and exhales in a resigned sigh.
She wants to sleep, but when she closes her eyes, more bad thoughts flood her mind. She used to not sleep enough, always thinking about new poems or composing lyrics to win over Agatha Harkness; now, if she wanted to give in to sleep, bad things would happen in her dreams.
It’s been two days of hell, and at any moment, madness and desperation would make their presence known.
[Wednesday, April 21 — 12:12 PM]
@Hark2307:
You probably never want to talk to me again…
I’m sorry… I sent the message meant for you to someone else by mistake… I’m sorry for not responding, I was really scared of what might happen. Of not being good enough for you.
And yes, I do want to go out with you.
Would you go out with me?
(I guess that doesn't matter much right now, does it?)
Her response was sincere and true.
Rio’s face lit up, her brown eyes widened in surprise, and her mouth returned to its usual smile.
[Wednesday, April 21 — 12:16 PM]
@Green_Witch:
Yes, I want to go out with you, Agatha Harkness.
@Hark2307:
“I want to see you…”
@Green_Witch:
“And I want it even more…”
