Work Text:
RebelHeart Sent You a DM
“Alright, class—turn to your neighbor. And remember,” Miss Skye added, her tone sharpening just enough to cut through the room’s low chatter, “it’s a peer critique, not a hit piece. Be nice.”
She lingered on those last two words, her gaze settling—pointedly—on a pair of girls seated across from each other, a drawing tablet and a laptop forming a fragile no man’s land between them.
They were, without question, two of Valoran High’s brightest. Stars of the arts program. One a painter, the other a writer.
And, more importantly, sworn enemies.
On the left sat Luxanna Crownguard, posture immaculate, hands folded neatly beside her tablet. Her cream cashmere cardigan fell in soft lines over a blue-and-gold plaid skirt, every detail as composed as the girl herself. She glanced down at the notebook that had appeared at her side, then lifted her eyes—clear, sky-blue, and already cooling—to its owner.
Her expression soured instantly.
Across from her, Jinx Lane grinned.
Jinx leaned back in her chair, balancing it on two legs with careless precision. Long, electric-blue braids spilled from beneath a bright pink beanie—cat ears perched defiantly on top. Heavy boots rested against the desk, her oversized Pentakill hoodie swallowing her frame. Where Lux was restraint, Jinx was noise.
“Yes, Miss Skye…” they chorused in perfect, lifeless unison.
A few nearby students snorted.
Jinx tilted her head, grin sharpening as she nudged her laptop open. “So,” she drawled, “what’ve you got for me today, little miss perfect?”
Lux didn’t dignify that with an answer. She flipped open Jinx’s notebook instead, turning to the last page. Her eyes scanned the writing—and within seconds, her brows knit together.
Across the table, Jinx gave a soft, mocking laugh as she pulled up Lux’s submission. Her gaze sharpened instantly, dissecting every inch of the still-life study.
Technically flawless.
Lighting? Precise.
Color? Balanced.
Perspective? Clean.
Jinx’s nose wrinkled.
God, it’s so boring.
It wasn’t art—it was a checklist. Every guideline followed, every risk avoided. There was no mess, no emotion, nothing that felt like Lux beyond the need to be perfect.
Same old teacher’s pet.
“Hey.”
Lux’s voice cut through her thoughts, tight with disbelief.
“What even is this?”
Jinx glanced up, feigning innocence.
Lux tapped the page, irritation bleeding through her composure. “The assignment was a simple conversation scene. Two characters. Weekend plans.” She looked up, incredulous. “Why do they suddenly get attacked by squirrels riding unicorns?”
A quiet ripple of laughter spread through the nearby desks.
Jinx shrugged, unapologetic.
Lux wasn’t done. “Did you even write this before class?” she pressed, her tone hovering somewhere between accusation and reluctant amusement.
They both knew the answer.
Jinx leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand, eyes glinting. “Hey, at least I put something into it. A little creativity. A little soul.” She gestured lazily toward the tablet. “Yours might look pretty, but it’s dead. Completely boring.”
Lux’s jaw tightened. She pushed the notebook back across the table with more force than necessary. “At least I care about this class.”
Their eyes met.
For a moment, the room seemed to tilt toward them—conversation dimming, attention sharpening. The tension wasn’t subtle. It sparked, alive and crackling, impossible to ignore.
“Girls!”
Miss Skye’s voice snapped through it like a ruler against a desk.
Both of them looked over instantly.
“What did I say?” she demanded. “Be nice.”
A pause.
“Sorry, Miss Skye—” they echoed again, just as flat, just as synchronized.
This time, the class didn’t bother hiding their laughter.
Miss Skye sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “What am I going to do with you two…”
But whatever answer she might’ve found was swallowed by the shrill ring of the bell.
Chairs scraped back. Conversations surged.
“Alright, alright,” she called over the noise. “See y’all tomorrow. And don’t forget—we’re starting the end-of-semester project. Be ready.”
“Yes, Miss Skye,” the class replied in loose unison as they packed up.
Jinx slung her bag over one shoulder. Lux gathered her things with practiced precision.
For a brief moment, they glanced at each other again.
Then, in perfect, mutual disdain, they both rolled their eyes and turned away.
God, she’s annoying.
The thought echoed in both their minds—identical, unspoken, and entirely certain.
A single light burned in the dark.
It spilled across the room in a soft, bluish glow—not from a lamp, but from the screen of a drawing tablet, its brightness carving shape and color out of the quiet night. Beyond its reach, shadows gathered in the corners, draping over shelves crowded with plushies, figurines, and posters layered one over the other like a collage of obsessions.
One series dominated them all.
Its characters smiled down from glossy prints and taped sketches, frozen in moments Luxanna Crownguard knew by heart.
And now, she was adding one more.
Perched in her chair like some nocturnal creature, Lux hunched over her tablet, knees tucked up beneath her, back curved in defiance of all proper posture. Her hair was twisted into a loose, half-falling bun, a sheet mask clinging to her face as she leaned closer, closer—adjusting the smallest details with meticulous care.
Two hands.
That was all it was, really. Just two characters, fingers intertwined.
But it had to be perfect.
A final stroke. A pause.
“And… done.”
Her voice came out soft, almost reverent. Then her eyes lit up.
“Oh, she’s gonna love it.”
Lux pulled back just enough to take it in.
It was nothing like what she turned in for class. No rigid structure. No careful obedience to guidelines. This piece was alive—soft colors blooming into each other, warmth threaded through every line, emotion spilling out in a way she never quite allowed anywhere else.
It felt like her.
And it wasn’t just for her.
She reached for her PC, fingers quick despite the hour, navigating instinctively. The file uploaded. Caption typed. Sent.
And then—
She waited.
The seconds stretched.
Then—
Ping.
Lux jolted upright.
RebelHeart sent you a DM
A small, undignified squeal escaped her before she could stop it.
She clicked.
“OMG!!!!! THE HANDHOLDING! I’M SCREAMING!”
Lux pressed a hand over her mouth, grinning.
Another message popped up almost immediately.
“Lighty, this is perfect! It’s exactly how I pictured the scene. The hand holding 😍 The way you used the colors to show their emotions—chef’s kiss.”
Warmth flooded her chest, bright and immediate.
Her fingers flew across the keyboard.
“Thanks, Reby!!!! That scene you wrote was so good! I had to draw it. I’m glad I surprised you!”
The reply came just as fast.
“Oh, I am! The readers are gonna love it. I’m uploading the chapter immediately. And I’m sending you the next one now—I literally stayed up all night to finish it.”
Lux’s feet kicked against the chair, an excited, restless energy bubbling up as she did a small, contained dance.
“OMG! So fast! I can’t wait to see what happens next!”
“I’m really excited about this one,” Reby wrote. “I think it’s some of my best work.”
A pause.
“Also… it gets a little spicy. ❤️🔥”
Lux froze for half a second, then felt the heat rise to her cheeks beneath the cool sheet mask.
“I can’t wait,” she typed, laughing quietly to herself.
And just like that, the night slipped away.
Messages turned into conversations, conversations into something softer, easier. They talked about the chapter, then about the show, then about everything else. It had started simply enough—Lux searching for something more after the latest season, stumbling across RebelHeart’s writing by chance.
But nothing about it felt like chance anymore.
Reby’s stories had been different. Emotional. Messy in all the right ways. She understood the characters—not just what they did, but why they did it. It had pulled something out of Lux, something she hadn’t quite touched before.
The first drawing had been an experiment.
The second, a response.
After that, it had become something else entirely.
Lux would draw scenes inspired by Reby’s writing. Reby would write scenes inspired by Lux’s art. They traded unfinished drafts, half-formed ideas, late-night thoughts. Somewhere along the way came inside jokes, nicknames, shared frustrations, small glimpses into their lives.
Not everything.
But enough.
They didn’t know each other’s real names.
And somehow, it didn’t matter.
“If only they actually met in canon,” Lux typed at one point, rolling onto her side as she stared at the screen. “They would totally start making out.”
“They will!!!” Reby shot back instantly. “She’s not dead. Next time we see her, they’re getting together. I’m not manifesting it—I know.”
Lux laughed, sending back a string of emojis—hearts, flames, exaggerated agreement.
But as the conversation drifted on, something quieter slipped in beneath the excitement.
She paused, fingers hovering over the keyboard.
She gets it.
Not just the show. Not just the characters.
Me.
The thought settled deeper than she expected.
Her gaze softened, fixed on the glowing screen.
I wish I could meet her.
Her fingers moved, almost without permission.
I could tell her—
They stopped.
Hovered.
The cursor blinked back at her, patient. Waiting.
Lux exhaled slowly, her hand still poised above the keys, caught somewhere between impulse and hesitation.
—
“I love talking with you. You really get it.”
The words appeared on Lux’s screen—simple, unguarded.
Her breath caught.
For a moment, she just stared at them, her heart stuttering into an uneven rhythm. It was exactly what she had been circling around all night, what she hadn’t quite dared to say.
Reby had said it for her.
Another message followed, almost immediately.
“Your art is so expressive. I can really feel your passion. It has so much soul.”
Lux’s cheeks warmed beneath the cooling sheet mask, the edges beginning to peel as her smile grew. She pressed her lips together, trying—and failing—to contain it.
“Stop it! 😂 You too,” she typed back, fingers quick, almost flustered. “I live for your fics. I can’t wait to see your name in bookstores one day.”
There was a pause.
Short—but noticeable.
“I don’t know…” Reby replied, the confidence in her earlier messages softening into something quieter, more uncertain.
Lux tilted her head slightly, reading it again.
“Only if you do the illustrations.”
That made her still.
For a second, the room around her faded—the dim glow, the quiet hum of electronics, the scattered pieces of her life. In its place, something else took shape. A future she hadn’t planned, hadn’t even considered until now.
A book.
Reby’s words.
Her art.
Together.
Lux’s fingers hovered, then moved.
“Okay. If you ever write a book, I’ll illustrate it.”
The message looked small on the screen. Casual. Almost throwaway.
It wasn’t.
A second passed.
A flicker of doubt crept in, tightening something in her chest.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Came back.
“Promise?” Reby asked.
Lux didn’t hesitate this time.
“Promise.”
Something in her settled as soon as she hit send. The moment wrapped around her, warm and steady, like a blanket pulled close on a cold night. It was a small thing. An easy promise.
And yet—it felt like more.
“I wish we had classes together,” Reby wrote next. “We’d have so much fun.”
Lux laughed softly, the tension easing out of her shoulders.
“OMG, same! I desperately need an ally in class.”
Her fingers moved faster now, the conversation slipping into something lighter—familiar.
“Ugh. There’s this one girl I just cannot deal with.”
“Oh my god, you too!?” Reby shot back. “I have one as well. Tell me everything—we need to compare notes.”
Lux huffed, rolling onto her side, phone angled above her face.
“This girl just… doesn’t care. Like, at all. Thinks she’s so edgy. Turns everything in late.”
She paused, searching for the right words.
“And she has this ‘I couldn’t care less’ attitude. It’s so annoying. And—”
Her thumbs slowed.
“Okay, fine. She’s a little cute, but that attitude—”
She froze.
A beat later, the reply came.
“Cute?”
Heat rushed to Lux’s face instantly, blooming bright and undeniable.
“Ah—yeah, I mean—she has this whole emo, skater-girl thing going on, which is… kind of cute,” she typed, wincing even as she sent it.
“You into that type?” Reby asked.
Lux let out a muffled, embarrassed shriek, burying her face briefly into her pillow.
“I did not say that,” she shot back quickly. “Anyway! Enough about her. What’s your enemy like?”
A string of laughing emojis appeared almost immediately.
“Well, if you really want to know…” Reby began.
“She’s so pretentious.”
Lux blinked.
“Like, yeah, all her work is technically perfect—but it’s boring. Like paint-by-numbers.”
Lux’s smile faltered slightly.
“This is art class, right? There’s nothing of her in it. No creativity. No personality. And she gets a pass because she’s basically the school’s princess. Super rich. Super favored.”
A pause.
“So annoying.”
Lux stared at the message, something strange tugging at the edges of her thoughts—familiar, but just out of reach.
“Ugh, I hate people like that,” she typed back, pushing past it. “I think you win. She sounds insufferable.”
Emojis followed. The moment passed.
Or… almost.
Lux glanced at the time in the corner of her screen.
Past midnight.
Her stomach dropped slightly.
Already?
“I should go,” she typed, a small frown tugging at her lips. “It’s getting late.”
A sad emoji. A sleepy one.
“Nooooo!!!” Reby replied instantly, a flood of crying emojis trailing after it.
Lux smiled despite herself.
“Oh well,” came the next message. “Nighty night, Lighty. XOXO.”
The nickname lingered.
“Goodnight, Reby,” Lux wrote back softly.
She powered down her tablet, the room dimming further as the last of the light faded. Sliding beneath her blankets, she kept her phone in hand, the screen still glowing faintly in the dark.
Her eyes drifted over the messages again.
The promise.
The laughter.
The easy way they fit.
Her thumb hovered over the last message, as if she might say something more.
She didn’t.
Instead, she let the screen dim, her gaze softening as sleep slowly pulled at her.
Night, Reby…
—
“Night, Lighty.”
The words slipped out in a quiet murmur, barely louder than the hum of the room.
Jinx Lane slouched at her desk, cheek pressed against the cool surface, her phone casting a pale glow across her face. A slow, unguarded smile tugged at her lips as she reread the last message—again, and then again, like it might change if she blinked.
It didn’t.
It just felt better every time.
“PowPow,” a voice groaned from across the room, thick with sleep, “stop texting your girlfriend and go to bed already.”
A pillow flew through the dimness.
It hit its mark.
Jinx recoiled with a sharp glare, snatching the pillow off her face and launching it back with considerably more force. “She’s not my girlfriend!” she snapped. “God, you’re so annoying, Vi!”
The pillow landed somewhere near its target with a dull thump.
Jinx—RebelHeart, to the rest of the internet—pushed herself upright, stretching slightly. She wore loose pajama pants and a faded pink tank top, her long blue hair spilling down her back in messy waves.
Across the room, Vi barely reacted. Already halfway buried beneath her blankets, she caught the pillow with lazy reflexes and shoved it aside.
“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, voice dipping toward sleep again. “Go to bed.”
Jinx rolled her eyes, grabbing her phone as she pushed herself toward her own bed. “What are you even doing here?” she shot back. “Get into another fight with Caitlyn or something?”
Vi didn’t answer.
Didn’t even acknowledge it.
Just a faint grunt, followed by the slow, steady rhythm of someone already drifting off.
Jinx snorted softly under her breath, climbing into bed and pulling the covers up around her waist. For a moment, she glanced over—just long enough to confirm Vi was, in fact, out cold.
Then her attention snapped right back to her screen.
LadyLight’s latest piece filled it.
Jinx’s expression softened without her noticing.
Her thumb hovered, tracing the shape of the image without touching it. The hands—intertwined, gentle, hesitant in a way that felt painfully real. The colors carried the emotion more than the lines did, warmth bleeding into warmth, like something fragile being held together by sheer will.
It wasn’t just good.
It felt like something.
“Show-off,” Jinx muttered quietly, though there was no bite to it.
Miles away, Lux lay curled beneath her blankets, her room dim save for the faint glow of her phone. The world had gone quiet around her, but her mind hadn’t followed.
On her screen, RebelHeart’s latest chapter scrolled slowly beneath her thumb.
She stopped at the same scene again.
And again.
The confession.
The way the words unfolded—careful, hesitant, then all at once. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t loud. It was honest in a way that made her chest ache.
Reby had a way of doing that.
Of slipping something soft and sharp between the lines, something that lingered long after the words themselves.
Lux exhaled slowly, eyes tracing the paragraph one more time.
Back in her room, Jinx shifted onto her side, still staring at the drawing.
A thought crept in, quiet but persistent.
So… she likes emo, skater girls.
Her lips twitched faintly.
Then—
…would she like me?
The question hit harder than she expected.
Her chest tightened, something unfamiliar curling low beneath her ribs. Not quite fear. Not quite hope.
Something worse.
Something real.
Across the city, Lux’s gaze lingered on the final line of the scene, her heart still caught somewhere between the words.
A different thought surfaced, softer—but no less dangerous.
I like her…
She swallowed.
And I don’t even know her name.
Silence settled over both rooms.
Two girls, miles apart, staring at glowing screens in the dark.
The same thought, rising slowly in both their minds.
Should I tell her?
Neither of them did.
Eventually, their eyes grew heavy, the glow of their phones dimming as sleep crept in at the edges. Messages left open. Words unsent.
They drifted off like that—caught somewhere between what was and what could be.
And neither of them noticed how close they already were.
Luxanna Crownguard entered the classroom like she always did—composed, effortless, untouched by the chaos of morning.
Her uniform was pristine, her hair perfectly set, her expression bright and attentive. If there had been any sign of the late night she’d spent awake, it was hidden well beneath polished edges and practiced poise.
She slipped into her seat, setting her things down with quiet precision.
Then—just for a moment—her composure cracked.
A small yawn escaped, half-hidden behind her hand.
Gone as quickly as it came.
Her eyes lifted—
And landed on Jinx.
The other girl stumbled in just before the bell, all disheveled energy and careless movement. She dropped into her chair like gravity had pulled her personally, her bag hitting the desk with a dull thud before she dragged it closer and collapsed onto it, using it as a makeshift pillow.
She didn’t even glance Lux’s way.
Lux rolled her eyes automatically.
And then—
Cute?
The word slipped in, uninvited.
Last night’s conversation echoed, vivid and immediate. Her own words. Her own embarrassment.
Her gaze lingered, just for a second longer than usual.
Jinx was already half-asleep, cheek pressed into her bag, completely unbothered by the world.
Lux blinked.
What was I thinking?
“Morning, class!”
Miss Skye’s voice rang out, bright and commanding. It pulled the room into focus—everyone sitting up a little straighter.
Everyone except one.
Lux sighed, leaning forward just enough to lightly nudge Jinx’s leg with her foot.
Jinx stirred, groaning softly, but lifted her head just enough to be considered conscious.
Barely.
“Today,” Miss Skye continued, “we’ll be starting your end-of-semester project.”
A ripple of attention moved through the room.
“You’ll be working in pairs to write and illustrate a children’s book. A short story—your choice.”
Papers were passed out, the soft shuffle of movement filling the space as students scanned the rubric.
“It must include a clear moral,” Miss Skye added, returning to her desk, “be understandable for children, and your illustrations should enhance the story—capture imagination.”
She paused.
“And now… partnerships.”
A collective tension settled over the room.
Names began to fall, one after another.
With each pair announced, Lux felt something tighten—not worry, not quite—but anticipation. Beside her, Jinx seemed only marginally more awake, though her fingers tapped absently against the desk.
Then—
“Luxanna Crownguard and… Jinx Lane.”
Silence.
Then—
Two simultaneous groans.
The class broke into quiet laughter.
Miss Skye didn’t even look up. “I don’t want to hear it. You two need to move past your differences. You might actually learn something from each other.”
Lux exhaled slowly.
“Yes, Miss Skye…” they said together, the words automatic, perfectly synchronized.
Their eyes met.
Both sighed.
—
The library was quieter.
Cleaner. Ordered.
Lux thrived in it immediately.
Within minutes, she had gathered a small stack of children’s books, spreading them across the table with methodical care. Her fingers flipped through pages, studying composition, pacing, how text curved around illustration, how color guided the eye.
This, at least, made sense.
Across from her, Jinx leaned back in her chair, balancing a pen on the bridge of her nose.
Doing absolutely nothing.
Lux’s eye twitched.
“Are you going to start?” she asked, not looking up from her book.
“I’m thinking,” Jinx replied lazily.
Lux turned a page.
“Well, can you think faster?”
“Mm,” Jinx murmured, shifting slightly as the pen wobbled. “Nah. I work best under pressure.”
Lux closed the book.
Slowly.
“Jinx, we have deadlines. Unlike you, I don’t enjoy leaving things until the last possible second.”
“Relax—”
The pen dropped.
Jinx’s eyes snapped open, sudden and electric.
“—I’ve got it.”
She leaned forward, energy igniting all at once, her voice quick, overlapping itself.
“Okay, so—there’s a dragon, right? But not like a scary dragon, more like misunderstood—and there’s a pirate, but she’s looking for treasure, except the treasure isn’t actually gold, it’s—no wait, there is gold, but it’s hidden, lost—okay, listen—cat detective—”
Lux blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Words blurred together, tumbling over each other in a chaotic stream.
“…and then there’s like a whole puzzle and—no, wait, the cat solves it, but the dragon—”
“Jinx.”
Nothing.
“Jinx.”
Still nothing.
“Jinx!”
She stopped.
Barely.
“That’s,” Lux said carefully, pressing her fingers to her temple, “at least seven different ideas.”
“It’s one idea,” Jinx insisted, frowning. “You’re just not seeing it yet.”
Lux exhaled slowly, the beginnings of a headache forming.
“Okay. Fine.” She reached for her tablet. “Dragon. Pirate. Cat detective. I’ll start sketching. You—figure out the story. Deal?”
Jinx paused.
Surprised.
Then, almost immediately—grinned.
“Deal.”
She grabbed her notebook, flipping it open with a renewed focus that hadn’t been there moments ago.
For a second, she hesitated.
Something about that exchange—about Lux just going with it—felt strangely familiar.
Like she’d done this before.
Like she knew this rhythm.
Jinx shook it off, pen already moving.
Across the table, Lux glanced up.
Jinx was actually writing.
Not slouching. Not complaining.
Working.
Lux blinked.
Huh.
Her lips pressed together, thoughtful.
Maybe… this could work.
—
That afternoon, something shifted.
It wasn’t dramatic. No sudden breakthrough, no grand realization. Just a quiet, almost accidental rhythm settling between them—steady, unforced.
For once, the air between Lux and Jinx wasn’t charged with barbs or half-hidden insults. No snide remarks waiting at the edge of every sentence.
Just… work.
They didn’t agree on everything. That would’ve been impossible. But somehow, they adjusted. Bent where needed. Met in the middle without quite acknowledging they were doing it.
It was, perhaps, the longest they had ever spent together without trying to tear each other apart.
“Okay,” Jinx said, stretching her notebook across the table. “Read this.”
Lux paused mid-stroke, lifting her stylus as she reached for the page.
She began to read.
At first, her expression stayed neutral—focused, analytical. But as her eyes moved down the page, something softened. A crease formed between her brows, not from confusion, but recognition.
The chaos from earlier… it was gone.
Or rather—it had been shaped into something coherent. Simple, yes. Meant for children. But beneath that simplicity was something else. A thread of emotion, subtle but intentional. A sense of care that hadn’t been there before.
And something else.
Something familiar.
Lux couldn’t quite place it.
She pushed the thought aside.
“It’s good,” she said finally, handing the notebook back. “See what you can do when you put in a little effort.”
It was meant as praise.
It didn’t sound like it.
Jinx’s mouth twitched. “Wow. I feel so encouraged right now.”
“Is there anything you want to change?” she added, leaning forward slightly.
Lux hesitated, then nodded, tapping the final section. “The ending. It works, but… it could land better.” She shifted the page toward herself again, already speaking as she thought. “If you slow this part down—give the characters a moment here—it’ll hit harder. Right now it feels a little rushed.”
She kept going, refining, adjusting—offering real critique.
And Jinx… listened.
Not deflecting. Not joking it off.
Listening.
Lux noticed.
Really noticed.
Her voice slowed.
Her eyes lifted, just slightly—
And caught the look on Jinx’s face.
Focused. Attentive. Open in a way she hadn’t seen before.
For a second, the world narrowed.
Cute.
The thought slipped in again, sharper this time.
Lux blinked, almost physically shaking it off.
“Anyway,” she said quickly, pulling back. “Work on that. I’m almost done with the character sketches.”
“Got it.”
Jinx took the notebook back without protest, already scribbling changes into the margins.
They fell back into that same quiet rhythm.
Pages turning. Pencil scratching. Stylus gliding.
Comfortable.
Jinx glanced up.
Just for a second.
Lux was leaning over her tablet, brows drawn together, lips slightly pursed in concentration. Her posture wasn’t perfect anymore—slouched just enough to betray the hours she’d been working.
Human.
Jinx’s gaze lingered.
Huh…
Something about it—about her—felt different now.
Lux shifted.
Jinx snapped her eyes back down to her notebook instantly.
The intercom crackled to life.
“Luxanna Crownguard, please report to Miss Skye’s room.”
The room seemed to pause for a beat.
“I wonder what she wants,” Jinx muttered.
Lux stood, smoothing her skirt automatically. “Probably checking we haven’t killed each other yet.”
She hesitated, then added, almost as an afterthought, “I’m done with the sketches. You can look—only look. Don’t touch my tablet.”
Jinx raised her hands in mock surrender. “Yes, Little Miss Perfect.”
Lux gave a small, satisfied nod. “I’ll be right back.”
And then she was gone.
The silence she left behind felt… different.
Jinx waited a few seconds.
Then leaned forward.
The tablet lit up beneath her touch.
Her eyes widened, just slightly.
The drawings were—
Not what she expected.
They were soft. Simple in a way that made them feel approachable, alive. The kind of designs that would make a kid smile without needing to understand why.
But underneath that simplicity—
There it was again.
Care.
Emotion.
Soul.
“Wow…” Jinx murmured. “So she can draw like this…”
Her gaze drifted.
And caught something at the edge of the screen.
A tab.
Still open.
Reby❤️
Jinx frowned.
Her fingers moved before the thought fully formed.
Click.
The screen changed.
Her breath caught.
Once.
Twice.
Three times, she scanned the image like it might rearrange itself if she looked hard enough.
It didn’t.
She knew this piece.
Every line. Every color.
She’d been staring at it the night before.
“Wait…” she whispered.
Her thoughts stumbled over each other.
Why does Lux have—
Then—
No way.
Her heart kicked hard against her ribs.
Is Luxanna Crownguard… LadyLight?
Footsteps.
“Hey—what do you think?”
Jinx jolted.
She switched tabs so fast it almost hurt, spinning around just as Lux stepped back into view.
Lux tilted her head slightly. “Well?”
Jinx stared at her.
Really stared.
At her eyes. Her face. Every detail suddenly rearranging itself under a new, impossible possibility.
Her mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
“Jinx?” Lux prompted.
“Oh—uh—yeah,” Jinx stammered, dragging herself back. “It’s good. Great. Really. You’re… good.”
She sat down too quickly, nearly knocking her chair.
Lux blinked, one brow lifting. “Alright… weird.”
She slid back into her seat. “Miss Skye just wanted to check on—”
Jinx wasn’t listening.
Her gaze had already dropped.
Lux’s phone sat on the table. Screen up.
Jinx’s pulse quickened.
Slowly, carefully, she pulled out her own phone.
Typed one word.
Hey.
Sent.
A second passed.
Then—
Ping.
Lux’s phone lit up.
Jinx didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
Her eyes locked onto the notification before Lux could reach for it.
RebelHeart sent you a DM.
The world narrowed to a single, deafening realization.
It’s her.
Jinx shot to her feet.
“What—?” Lux started.
“I—I—uh—” Jinx grabbed her bag, words tangling over themselves. “I forgot—I have something—to do. Today.”
“But the project—” Lux frowned.
“Yeah, I—I’ll text you!”
“You don’t have my number,” Lux called after her.
Jinx froze mid-step.
“Right—shit!” She glanced back, already halfway out the door. “We’ll—talk tomorrow!”
And then she was gone.
Just like that.
The door swung shut behind her.
Silence settled back into the space she left.
Lux stared at it for a long moment.
Then slowly sank back into her chair, brows knitting together.
“…What is with her?”
Lux stared down at her phone, her brows drawn tight.
The last message sat there, unchanged.
Hey.
That was all Reby had sent.
No follow-up. No explanation. No reply to anything Lux had written afterward.
It wasn’t like her.
Reby always responded. Quickly. Eagerly. Like she was just as invested in every conversation as Lux was.
Not this time.
Lux exhaled slowly, placing the phone face-down on the table as if that might quiet the unease building in her chest.
It didn’t.
Her gaze drifted to her tablet instead.
She sighed again—deeper this time.
Jinx hadn’t shown up to class that morning.
Now Lux sat alone in the library, the quiet stretching too wide around her, her stylus hovering uselessly above the screen.
She was being so weird yesterday…
Her eyes shifted to the sketches in front of her—the dragon, the pirate, the little cat detective.
And then, unbidden—
Jinx.
The way she’d leaned over her notebook. The way her voice had shifted when she talked about the story. The way her writing had felt.
Not rushed. Not careless.
Intentional.
Familiar.
Lux frowned.
Before she could follow the thought any further—
A chair scraped.
Then dropped heavily into place across from her.
Lux looked up.
Jinx.
Just… there.
Like she’d appeared out of thin air.
She wore that same crooked, half-lidded smirk—but something about it felt different. Sharper. Intentional. And her eyes—
They were fixed on Lux.
Unblinking.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Lux asked, one brow lifting.
“No reason,” Jinx said, her voice carrying a strange little lilt, like she was holding onto a joke Lux wasn’t in on.
“…Okay.”
Lux sat back slightly. “Nice of you to show up.”
“Yeah,” Jinx said. “I was… busy.”
There was something off in the way she said it. Like the word meant more than it should.
Lux ignored it.
“Well,” she continued, turning back toward her tablet, “did you at least finish the draft?”
Silence.
Lux glanced up again.
Jinx was still staring at her.
Not even pretending to work.
“Jinx?”
Nothing.
“Jinx.”
“Huh?” She blinked, like she’d been pulled out of somewhere else entirely.
“The draft,” Lux repeated, more firmly. “Did you finish it?”
“Oh. No. Sorry.” Jinx rubbed the back of her neck, her words stumbling just slightly. “I—I was busy yesterday. Had some stuff to deal with.”
A pause.
Her gaze flickered back to Lux, something unreadable behind it.
“I… learned something yesterday,” she added quietly. “Kind of rocked my world.”
Lux didn’t bite.
“Well,” she said, sharper than before, “you can start now. I’d like to finish this as soon as possible. I have other things I need to work on.”
Her tone carried a clear edge.
She didn’t miss it.
She didn’t soften it, either.
Jinx’s eyes narrowed—just slightly.
“Yeah?” she asked. “Like what?”
Lux blinked. “What?”
“What are you doing after this?” Jinx pressed, leaning forward now. “Another drawing? Something else you’re working on?”
The question hit harder than it should have.
Lux’s composure slipped—just a fraction.
“I—what? That’s none of your business,” she said quickly, the words tripping over themselves. “I just want to finish this.”
Jinx giggled.
“Okay, okay,” she said, leaning back again. “Just asking.”
Lux frowned but let it go, turning back to her tablet with more force than necessary.
Silence settled between them again.
Or something like it.
“You know,” Jinx started after a moment, her tone lighter now—too light, “I was thinking about the final scene.”
Lux didn’t look up, but she listened.
“I want them to hold hands,” Jinx continued. “It’s important. Like… that’s the moment, you know?”
Lux’s stylus slowed.
Jinx leaned forward slightly, her voice softening—not mocking now. Almost thoughtful.
“The way their fingers fit together,” she said. “Intertwined. Intentional.”
Lux froze.
Her grip tightened on the stylus.
“Like it means something,” Jinx went on, her gaze fixed on Lux. “Not just… contact. But choice.”
Heat rushed to Lux’s face.
That—
That sounded—
Too close.
Too specific.
Her heart skipped, then stumbled.
No.
Her mind scrambled to catch up, to rationalize.
It’s just handholding. That’s—normal. People describe it like that all the time.
She forced herself to keep drawing.
“Love that,” Jinx added quietly.
Lux didn’t respond.
Couldn’t.
Her face burned, her thoughts tangling over themselves as she tried to steady her breathing.
It’s nothing.
It’s just a coincidence.
She doesn’t know.
Her hand moved again, slower now, less certain.
She can’t know.
But the feeling didn’t leave.
And across the table—
Jinx watched her.
Like she was waiting for something.
—
Jinx noticed it immediately—the way Lux’s cheeks flushed, soft color blooming across her face.
And just like that, every thought in Jinx’s head scattered.
She had no idea what to do.
For the past twenty-four hours, her world had been spinning—fast, disjointed, impossible to slow down. The realization had hit her like a shockwave: LadyLight… Luxanna Crownguard.
The girl she argued with.
The girl she couldn’t stand.
The girl she—
Jinx swallowed.
She hadn’t slept. Not really. Maybe an hour, broken into pieces too small to matter. Her brain had refused to shut off, looping the same thoughts over and over again until they blurred into noise. She’d overslept anyway. Rushed out of the house half-dressed, half-awake, fueled by nothing but cheap coffee and one too many energy drinks.
Even then, it hadn’t helped.
When she’d seen Lux from across campus, something in her chest had seized.
She’d panicked.
Turned.
Hidden in the bathroom like a coward, staring at her phone as it buzzed again and again—notifications piling up, messages from LadyLight stacking on top of each other.
She’d read every single one.
Over and over.
And still—
Still, her brain refused to make the connection real.
Lux didn’t feel like LadyLight.
LadyLight didn’t feel like Lux.
So she’d come here.
To prove it.
To hear it.
To know.
Now she sat across from her—and everything in her head had gone quiet.
Too quiet.
“Hey,” Jinx started, her voice thinner than she intended. “I, uh… watched this show recently.”
She didn’t know where she was going with this.
Didn’t have a plan.
Didn’t have anything.
“I liked it,” she continued, words stumbling out unevenly. “The main couple, especially. So I started looking stuff up after it ended…”
She saw it then.
The shift.
Lux’s hand tightened around her stylus. Her knuckles went pale. The color in her face began to drain, slowly at first—then all at once.
Jinx’s stomach dropped.
“I found this artist online,” she said, quieter now.
The words hung there.
Heavy.
Too heavy.
“You went through my tablet.”
Lux’s voice cut through the air like glass.
Sharp. Controlled. Dangerous.
Then she stood.
The chair scraped loudly against the floor.
“You went through my private files.”
Her face had gone from pale to flushed in an instant, color rushing back with something far more volatile behind it.
“And now you’re going to make fun of me?”
The volume rose with each word, her usual composure unraveling completely.
Jinx took a step back instinctively, her hands lifting slightly like she could stop it—like she could stop any of this.
“I—I, no—I wasn’t—”
“Stop it!”
Lux’s voice cracked.
“I don’t believe you,” she snapped. “That’s what you do. You mock everything I make. You don’t take anything seriously—you don’t care about anyone!”
The words hit harder than anything else.
But it wasn’t the anger that stopped Jinx.
It was the way Lux’s eyes glistened.
Red at the edges.
Tears, barely held back.
Jinx froze.
Her mind surged—too many thoughts, too fast, none of them forming into anything she could actually say.
She knew what she meant to say.
She just couldn’t reach it.
“I’m done,” Lux said, her voice trembling now, though she tried to steady it.
She grabbed her tablet, shoving it into her bag with sharp, frantic movements.
“Forget this project. I’ll do it myself.”
She turned.
Fast.
Too fast.
“Wait!” Jinx called after her, the word tearing out of her before she could stop it.
Lux didn’t slow.
Didn’t turn.
Didn’t even hesitate.
She walked straight out of the library.
And just like that—
She was gone.
The silence she left behind felt suffocating.
Jinx stood there, unmoving, her hands still half-raised like she was trying to hold onto something that had already slipped through her fingers.
Her thoughts came rushing back all at once.
Too late.
Way too late.
“…Shit,” she whispered.
Jinx slammed the door open hard enough that it bounced against the wall.
“Ah—!” Vi jerked upright in bed, her phone slipping from her grip and smacking her square in the face. “Ow—what the hell—”
“I’m such an idiot!”
Jinx didn’t even acknowledge her. She stormed into the room, tossing her backpack onto her desk chair before collapsing face-first onto her bed. A second later, she grabbed a pillow, shoved it over her face—
—and screamed into it.
Vi sat there for a moment, one hand nursing her nose, the other still half-raised in protest. She turned her head slowly, eyeing her sister.
“What’s up with you?” she muttered. “You’re always an idiot. How’s today different?”
No response.
The pillow stayed firmly planted over Jinx’s face.
Vi frowned.
…Yeah, that’s not good.
Jinx not snapping back? Not throwing an insult? Not even a half-hearted punch?
That meant something was wrong.
Vi sighed, pushing herself up and crossing the short distance to Jinx’s bed. She sat beside her, her tone shifting—softer now, steadier.
“What’s wrong, PowPow?”
A muffled groan came from beneath the pillow.
“It’s stupid…”
“I’m sure it is,” Vi said lightly. “Still want to hear it.”
A pause.
Then Jinx slowly pulled the pillow away, dragging in a breath like she’d been underwater.
“Remember my online friend?” she asked. “The artist?”
Vi opened her mouth—then closed it again. No teasing. Not this time.
“Yeah,” she said instead.
Jinx stared up at the ceiling for a second, gathering herself.
Then it all came out.
The discovery. The panic. The library. The way everything had blown up in her face.
Vi listened.
Really listened.
Her expression shifted as the story unfolded—surprise first, then something softer, something almost amused… and finally, understanding.
When Jinx finished, the room fell quiet.
“…That’s…” Vi exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck. “Crazy.”
Jinx let out a hollow laugh. “What am I gonna do? She hates me now.”
Vi didn’t answer right away.
Instead, her gaze drifted—past Jinx, toward the desk. Toward the laptop sitting there, half-buried under clutter.
An idea clicked into place.
“Well…” she said slowly.
Jinx turned her head, wary.
“If you couldn’t say it…” Vi continued, nodding toward the desk, “why don’t you write it?”
Jinx followed her gaze.
The laptop.
Her fingers twitched.
For a second, she hesitated.
Then she pushed herself up, crossing the room in a few quick steps. The chair scraped as she pulled it out, flipping the laptop open with a sharp breath.
The screen lit up.
And she started typing.
—
That night, Lux sat alone in the dark.
Her room felt too quiet. Too still.
She curled in on herself in her chair, one knee pulled up to her chest, her chin resting against it. The tablet sat untouched on her desk, screen black.
She couldn’t bring herself to turn it on.
Next to it, her phone lay waiting.
She looked at it.
Waited.
Nothing.
Reby still hadn’t replied.
A faint sting pressed behind her eyes, the redness hidden in the dim light.
What now…?
The question echoed, unanswered.
Her thoughts drifted—unruly, unwelcome.
Would Jinx tell people?
Would she laugh about it?
It wasn’t just the art.
Well… maybe a little.
But mostly—it had been hers. Something she made quietly, privately. Something she made for someone else.
For Reby.
Her chest tightened.
Ping.
Lux’s head snapped up.
Her hand moved before she could think, grabbing her phone.
RebelHeart sent you a DM!
Her heart leapt.
She opened it instantly.
Not a message.
A file.
A story.
Short.
Only a few chapters.
Her breath slowed as she began to read.
Two girls.
Same school.
They didn’t get along.
Lux’s fingers tightened around her phone.
The story moved quickly—but every word felt deliberate. Familiar in a way that made her stomach twist.
The girls shared a secret.
Neither of them knew.
Lux’s pulse quickened.
Then—
One of them found out.
Didn’t know how to say it.
Messed it up.
Hurt the other.
Lux’s vision blurred slightly as her eyes stung.
The words pressed closer.
More honest.
More raw.
Until—
The final line.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I care about you.”
Lux stopped breathing.
No…
Her mind raced, scrambling for any other explanation.
There’s no way…
But there was.
There was only one answer.
She knew it.
She just hadn’t said it yet.
Because saying it would make it real.
Would mean—
Ping.
Another message.
Her hands shook as she opened it.
“Lux. Could we talk?”
Lux froze.
Her name.
Not Lighty.
Not anything else.
Lux.
Her lips parted slowly.
“Reby… is Jinx.”
The words felt strange out loud. Heavy. Final.
Her thoughts spiraled backward—every interaction, every strange look, every moment.
“When did she—how long has she—?”
Frustration flared, sharp and sudden.
But beneath it—
Something else.
She looked back at the message.
Read it again.
Then, without letting herself hesitate—
She typed.
“Let’s meet outside the school. Now.”
Sent.
Lux stood up immediately, her heart racing.
She didn’t want to think about it anymore.
She needed to see her.
Needed to know.
“How are you feeling, PowPow?”
Jinx swung her leg over her bike and pulled off her helmet, handing it to Vi.
“I’m… good,” she said quickly. “Yeah. Good.”
Her voice wavered anyway.
Everything she felt—fear, anticipation, hope—sat heavy in her chest, twisting tighter with every breath.
Vi watched her, a small smile tugging at her lips.
She’d seen this before.
“Alright,” Vi said, nudging her lightly. “Try not to blow it up. But if you do, I’ll be parked nearby.”
“Shut up,” Jinx muttered, though a grin broke through despite herself.
“Thanks. I’ll text you.”
They bumped fists, quick and familiar, before Vi pulled away and disappeared down the street.
Jinx turned back to the school.
The entrance loomed quiet in the night.
She didn’t pace.
Didn’t fidget.
Instead, she leaned against the railing, one foot hooked against the metal, pulling out her phone just to have something to do with her hands.
Her gaze flicked over the message again.
Lux.
That was still weird.
Two days ago, she couldn’t stand her.
Now—
Now she was the same girl whose words had kept her up at night, whose colors had slipped under her skin without permission.
Jinx blew a bubble with her gum, letting it pop softly as she exhaled.
Her eyes drifted upward.
The sky was overcast, the moon hidden behind a slow-moving veil of clouds.
“Hey…”
The voice pulled her back down.
Lux stood a few steps away.
And as Jinx looked at her—
the clouds shifted.
Moonlight broke through, soft and pale, settling over Lux like something deliberate.
For a second, Jinx forgot how to breathe.
“Jinx?” Lux said, her voice quieter now, steady—but not unshaken.
“Oh—hey,” Jinx replied, a little too fast.
“I wanted to—”
Lux lifted a hand.
Jinx stopped immediately.
Lux looked down, gathering herself. Jinx watched, silent, waiting—watching the way she searched for the right words.
Then Lux looked up.
Their eyes met.
The world seemed to narrow, everything else falling away.
“Are you RebelHeart?” she asked.
Slow. Careful.
She needed the truth.
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
Relief washed over Lux so suddenly she almost swayed with it.
Even standing here, she hadn’t been completely sure.
Now she was.
But the questions didn’t stop.
“Since when?” she asked, her voice quieter now. “Since when did you know about me?”
Jinx blinked. “Oh.”
She rubbed the back of her neck.
“Yesterday,” she admitted. “I saw the tab with my name. Clicked it. Saw the piece you sent me and then—” she winced, “—panicked. You came back, and I just… freaked out.”
The words tumbled out after that—messy, honest, unfiltered. The sleepless night. The hiding. The confusion.
Lux listened.
And despite everything—
She smiled.
Just a little.
“And then… today…” Jinx’s voice softened. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
She took a breath.
Steadying.
Then met Lux’s eyes fully.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I… care about you.”
The words settled between them.
Lux stared at her.
And then—
She laughed.
It started small. Disbelieving.
Then it broke into something real—bright and unrestrained, tears slipping free as the absurdity of it all finally caught up to her.
Jinx froze.
Unsure.
Lux saw it—through the blur—and stepped forward, reaching out.
Her fingers found Jinx’s.
Warm.
Real.
Jinx’s breath hitched as she looked down at their hands—then back up.
“I… care about you too,” Lux said softly.
“Yeah?” Jinx asked, almost shy.
“Yeah.”
A beat.
“Oh,” Jinx said, relief flooding her voice. “Okay. Good.”
Lux laughed again, lighter this time.
Jinx joined her.
“Oh my god, this is so weird,” Lux said between breaths. “This whole thing—how does it even make sense? The girl I’ve been drawing for, talking to, the girl I like—”
She stopped.
Too late.
Jinx blinked. “The girl you…?”
Lux’s face went crimson.
“I—I—”
She tried to pull her hand back.
Jinx didn’t let go.
Her grip tightened, gentle but certain.
“I also like… you,” Jinx said, quieter now, her own cheeks burning.
Lux stilled.
The words settled in slowly.
“Oh,” she breathed.
Then, softer—
“Okay.”
Her heart pounded as she looked at Jinx.
One thought surfaced, clear and undeniable.
Cute.
They stood there, hands entwined, neither able—or willing—to look away.
Time stretched.
Then—
A low, unmistakable growl broke the moment.
Jinx froze.
“…Sorry,” she muttered, covering her stomach. “I, uh—haven’t eaten today.”
Lux laughed again, the tension breaking instantly.
After a second, Jinx laughed too.
“Do you want to grab something?” Lux asked, still smiling. “We… still need to work on the project.”
A flimsy excuse.
Jinx saw right through it.
“Yeah,” she said. “I’d like that.”
She sent a quick text to Vi, then fell into step beside Lux.
“I have to say,” Lux added after a moment, glancing at her, “you’re very different online.”
Jinx snorted. “So are you.”
She nudged her lightly. “Didn’t you call yourself obnoxious?”
“I am not!”
“And you called me cute.”
Lux groaned, lifting her free hand to hide her face. “Stop it.”
They walked. Side by side. Hand in hand.
And neither of them wanted to let go.
The End.