Champagne Problems

Breakfast at Summerville is never quiet. Silver clinks, chairs screech, someone always laughs too loud. I’ve learned to sit through it with a smile that says yes, I’m enjoying myself, even when I’m not.

This morning, I hadn’t even managed coffee yet when Joshua slid into the chair across from me. No warning, no polite “may I?” just dropped himself there like he’d been scheduled into my day.

I blinked at him over the rim of my empty cup.

“Do I look like I invited company?”
“Not particularly,” he said. And then, maddeningly, he pushed a steaming cup toward me. Black. Exactly the way I drink it. Beside it,  a paper bag, already open, a sugared scone waiting inside.
I raised an eyebrow. “Trying to bribe me with pastries? Dangerous strategy. Usually works.”

He didn’t even try to look sheepish. “Good. Then you’ll forgive me for not wasting time.”

I tore off a piece of scone, mostly so I didn’t have to look at him straight on. “Oh God. That’s how you start? This sounds like you’re about to propose.”
Joshua, infuriatingly steady, didn’t blink. “Have you figured out yet what you actually want to do with your life?”

The bite of a scone lodged in my throat. I covered it with a laugh, too bright, too quick, and chased it down with coffee. “That’s bold for someone who didn’t even say good morning.”

“Mila.” He said it in that calm, maddening way, like he was waiting for me to stop performing. Like he already knew I was.
I leaned back, swirling my coffee like it was a prop in my hand. “What makes you think I haven’t figured it out?”

“Because every time someone asks about politics, you change the subject, and you spend more time dodging class than attending it, and because you’re very good at pretending, but you don’t seem happy.”

The words slid under my skin in a way I hated. I forced a smirk. “Maybe happiness is overrated. I’d rather be interesting.”
“Maybe.” He tilted his head. “But I think you’d be happier if you listened to yourself instead of everyone else.”

The dining hall roared around us, with chatter, laughter, and clatter, but suddenly it felt like the two of us were under a spotlight.

I looked away first, broke off another piece of scone just to keep my hands busy. “You’re very dramatic for breakfast,” I said lightly. “Next time, bring champagne.”
He didn’t push further. Just sipped his coffee like he’d already done enough, like all he wanted was to leave the question sitting there in my head.

And maybe that was enough.

Isn't this easy?

It’s Switzerland in March, which means the kind of cold that lingers even after you’ve wrapped yourself in every scarf you own. The campus lights look theatrical against the snow that refuses to melt, like someone staged the whole scene just to remind me that Switzerland does aesthetics better than comfort.

Leon suggested a walk. Of course he did. Midnight, freezing, the kind of night sane people stay inside with tea and Netflix, and somehow I agreed. I should’ve known this would happen the minute he looked at me with that let’s pretend we’re not both restless face.

We walked past the old library and the chapel, both pretending not to notice our breath clouding in the air. He asked if I was cold, and I said no, obviously, even though my hands were turning blue. I don’t do honesty that easily. Except, apparently, I do.

“Do you ever feel like… people already decided who you’re supposed to be?” I asked. No build-up, no segue, just the kind of thought that tumbles out when the night gets too quiet.

He glanced at me, not surprised. “All the time.”

And just like that, I hated him a little. Not really, but enough to feel the sting of someone actually understanding. I’m used to being observed, not understood. Observed is safe. Observed means they see the version I edited for release.

“I don’t even know if I’ve ever had a say,” I admitted, which is not the kind of thing I say. Normally, I’d spin it into something witty: Oh, poor me, daughter of famous people, so tragic. But it came out flat, unpolished. Real.

He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t turn it into some inspirational speech either, which was a relief. He just kept walking, shoulder brushing mine, like we were tethered by accident.

“You do now,” he said eventually. Simple, steady, almost infuriating in how much weight it carried.

And then, what else? He kissed me.

And I kissed him back, because apparently my self-preservation instincts freeze at sub-zero temperatures. It wasn’t long, or dramatic, or anything that would make the gossip columns, but it was enough to lodge itself under my skin.

When we pulled apart, I made a joke about frostbite. He laughed, because that’s our language. But my chest still ached, not from the cold, but from how much I wanted to stay in that moment.

We kept walking, neither of us talking much after that. The silence wasn’t awkward. It was worse. It was comfortable.

Bad idea, right?

I’d somehow convinced Helen and Eliza to spend the day with me, which was ambitious, considering Helen’s obsession with planning and Eliza’s tendency to vanish when bored. Somehow, though, they showed up, and I felt like I’d already won.

We started with brunch, which included one too many croissants, fruit, way too much coffee, but somehow, with the blessing of some higher power, or perhaps some lower power with an amazing sense of humour, the conversation was light. Quick. Bursts of laughter that made strangers glance, making us all feel very American in Paris. Somehow, and I say it with surprise, not in a bad way.

Helen kept stealing bites of my plate like she didn’t know I would notice, chuckling softly as Eliza, predictably, teased about everything: my coat, my hair, even my penchant for rolling my eyes dramatically at the menu.

“And Leon?” Eliza finally addressed the very handsome elephant in the room, eyebrows arching as she plopped a raspberry into her mouth. “Still obsessed with chasing you around campus?”

Helen snorted. “Obsessed? Mila, you basically have him on a leash. Admit it.”

I rolled my eyes. “I wouldn't put it like that.”

Wait, was I upset at the insinuation, and not proud of it? I didn't have a long time to think, as they didn’t let me off the hook. Helen leaned back. “He looks happy around you, and you look...”

Eliza laughed so hard she almost dropped her coffee. “Come on, say it, or else I will!” Helen gives a very daring, playful shrug, and Eliza rolled her eyes, but playfully smirked in the end. "You look happier."

I smirked, because yes, that was unfairly accurate. And fuck, I liked that it showed. Somehow, the ridiculousness of some of these moments, of most of it, made the warmth between us all feel… effortless.

We wandered the streets, poking into shops with way too much charm and way too little sense, laughing at scarves we would never buy and trinkets we didn’t need. Every glance at Leon’s absence made me feel him more, a quiet pull, the echo of him lingering behind every thought.

“This is so hard to miss,” Helen grinned.
I shrugged, pretending to be casual. “Maybe.”

Eliza grinned knowingly. “I somehow thought you were a better liar.”

By the time we were back in the car, with coffee to keep us company, which we did need, I realized I hadn’t once thought about anything else. Not about exams, not about obligations, not about what anyone expected me to be - or the fact I did not want to be there. Just the three of us, and the weird, bright way the day kept unfolding.

Can you see right through me?

The campus was quieter than usual for a Friday afternoon, though there were still enough students wandering the paths to make it feel alive. The Easter egg hunt was in full swing, ridiculously festive, in my opinion, but also a perfect excuse to linger outside without anyone assuming I had an actual reason to be out. And, of course, Leon was already there, scanning the crowd as if he knew exactly where every egg and every person would be.

For a second, it felt like he did.

I spotted him before he saw me, leaning against the railing like he had all the time in the world, hands tucked casually in his jacket pockets. My chest did that stupid little jump it always did when he was near, and I cursed myself silently because what day and age was this? I wasn’t supposed to react like this. I was supposed to be normal about it, but then he smiled, and the world tilted a little.

Fuck.

“Looking for something?” he asked as I approached, voice low, teasing, perfectly timed.
I shrugged, keeping my tone nonchalant. “Depends. You?”
“Depends on who’s hiding what,” he replied, eyes flicking toward the brightly painted eggs tucked behind trees, under benches, along windowsills. “Somebody has to keep score, right?”
I smirked, stepping closer. “Or maybe somebody just wants to see you wandering around like a cat chasing laser dots.”

He laughed, that warm, easy sound that made the world outside the hunt feel distant. “I think we both know which of us is more distracted.”

And there it was—the game. The egg hunt, the ridiculousness, the sunlight bouncing off the dewy campus lawns, the laughter echoing from far-off corners, and it was all an excuse. An excuse for me to be near him, to watch the way his sleeves bunched when he reached for an egg, the way his eyes got little crowsfeet when he laughed, the subtle way he noticed me even when he was pretending to scan the grounds.

I found an egg behind a bench and picked it up, pretending excitement, then leaned just slightly closer to him. “You’re too slow,” I teased. “Come on, you might miss it.”

He glanced at me, eyes sharp and warm all at once. “Am I?” He reached for the egg in my hand, brushing his fingers against mine. The contact was light, innocent, maybe, but my stomach betrayed me with a flip I didn’t bother hiding.

“Maybe you need a guide,” I whispered, letting my voice drop, playful but intentional.
He tilted his head, that little smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Maybe I do.”

For the next hour, we wandered together, half-looking for eggs, half-looking at each other. My hand brushed his more times than necessary. My laughter came easy when he joked about a “tactical egg placement strategy,” and I felt bold, daring even, in a way I hadn’t allowed myself in months. It wasn’t the grand gestures one might imagine; it was subtle, teasing, electric. A game where every glance, every laugh, every accidental brush of fingers mattered more than the silly eggs we were supposed to find.

He smiled faintly, and suddenly, the playful distance between us thinned. He leaned just slightly closer, enough that the warmth of his body pressed against mine in a way that made my thoughts scatter. The space between teasing and collapsing.

By the time we returned to the main courtyard, the crowd thinning and the eggs half-hidden, I realized I wasn’t just enjoying the hunt anymore. I was enjoying him. Watching him, being near him, feeling the subtle pull of everything that hadn’t been said.

And then, almost without realizing it, we found ourselves at the entrance to one of the lecture halls, tucked away from everyone else. The laughter and chatter from the courtyard were distant now, replaced by the quiet click of doors and the soft echo of our steps.
I stopped just outside the room, heart racing, mind spinning. His eyes found mine instantly, and the air between us shifted. The playful teasing, the casual touches, the laughter, all of it had led here, to a single, unsaid moment suspended between what we wanted and what we dared to do.

I wanted to say something, no, anything, but the words faltered. Instead, I let him step closer, and the silence carried more weight than anything spoken. The hint was there, electric and undeniable: we were about to cross the threshold, not just into a room, but into something that neither of us could ignore.

Of course, this time I didn’t pull away.

Pacing on shaky ground

The cold air had softened into a gentle mist by the time I left the courtyard, my boots crunching against the wet cobblestones. March and April had been strange, dizzying months.

And yet, every step forward felt like a tightrope walk. Fun, thrilling, but weighted with the awareness that I was still, somehow, there.

I shook my head, trying to release it, but the thought lingered: what I wanted, what I needed. It was exhausting and liberating all at once. And Joshua’s office was the first stop. I pushed the door open quietly, careful not to announce myself, though he had a way of sensing me anyway.

“Mila,” he said, eyes lighting up. “Coffee?”

I nodded, letting him slide a cup across the desk. I perched on the edge, sipping slowly, letting the warmth seep into my hands. “I’m, well, pretty sure I won’t be back next school year,” I admitted.
He leaned back, eyebrows rising slightly. “Not surprising, though brave to say it out loud.”

I shrugged, letting a little tension escape with the movement. “That sounded very supporting, or even sweet.”
“Should I curse you instead?”
“Would you be open to it, if it helped?
”I'll give it my best,” he grinned. “So, what's next?”
“I don’t know exactly what’s next, but staying here isn’t it.”

Joshua was quiet for a moment, watching me, letting the words settle. Then he nodded slowly. “Sometimes the first step is admitting you don’t want to walk the path laid before you. I can’t tell you what to do, Mila, but I can tell you that noticing your own direction is already progress.”

I smiled faintly, grateful but restless. It was enough for now.

The corridor felt colder when I left, the crisp Swiss air biting at my cheeks, and my thoughts immediately drifted to Leon. How would I even begin to tell him that I might leave, that this chapter of school, including us, wasn’t guaranteed to continue?

I found him in the library, head bent over a stack of papers, but the instant he looked up, his expression softened. “Mila,” he said, almost like a question and a greeting at once.
“Hi,” I managed, my voice steadier than I felt. I moved closer, standing just outside the desk where he was seated. His eyes flicked to mine, searching, patient.
“I… wanted to tell you something,” I began, pausing. The words felt heavier than any I’d said in months. “Something I should’ve said sooner…”
He tilted his head, that subtle, knowing gesture that made my pulse kick. “Go on,” he murmured.
And then, the weight of what I needed to say tangled itself in the words that didn’t come. I wanted to tell him about leaving, about my uncertain path, about everything that might change between us. But I couldn’t. Not yet. Not while standing in front of him, with the warmth in his eyes and the quiet patience in his posture.

Instead, I let the moment stretch. For too long.

“That awful shirt has to go,” I pivot. “You can thank me later.”

DONE!

Last edited by Zaralee (16/09/2025 at 22:13)

Sophia von Adelberg
Face claim: Louise Fankhänel
Age: 24, December 6th
Old student - 2nd year into her master in psychology



Running and Easter

Interests: Blake, Federico, Helen, Eliza and Oskar (if enough or anyone else you think fits better)

one

The trail along the lake was still damp from last night’s rain, slick stones catching light through the trees. Sophia kept her pace steady, breath measured, hair tied back sharp. She spotted Blake up ahead, hoodie pulled low, stride easy like he had all the time in the world. He looked back as she closed the distance, grin already forming.

”Finally” he called as she closed the distance. “Late start?”

“I wasn’t racing you.”

“Good. You’d lose.” She shot him a sidelong look, but before she could answer another voice cut in, louder, unmissable.

“Sophia! Mein Gott, you’ve become so slow!” Her mother appeared, running gear perfectly fitted, hair tucked into a sleek scarf instead of a cap. Helene carried herself like someone who could glide from morning jog to opera box without changing her posture. She waved one hand dramatically, as if scolding across a kitchen counter rather than a jogging path.

“Morning to you too, Mama,” Sophia said, catching her breath.

Helene barely spared her a glance before her eyes landed on Blake. “A runner, finally! Someone with lungs. You must be Blake, yes?”

Blake blinked but recovered fast, slipping into charm like a second skin. “I suppose I must,” Blake adjusted pace, polite but faintly amused. “That obvious?”

“Tall, fit, outdoors. Sophia mentions very little, but she said enough.” Helene’s smile was small but sharp. “You’re not what I pictured. You’re better. Outdoorsy type.”

“Mama,” Sophia said, a note of warning.

Helene ignored her. “Do you always run this route?”

“Most mornings,” Blake said. “Helps to clear the head.”

“Good answer,” Helene replied crisply. “Most men I know sit in offices until they collapse. You at least look like you could carry a conversation and a heavy bag at the same time.”

Sophia pinched the bridge of her nose. “We’re running, Mama.”

“Yes, and you’re not fast enough,” Helene said, lifting her chin. She glanced at Blake again, approving, then gestured down the path. “Go on. Show her how it’s done. She hates losing.”

Helene lengthened her stride, leaving them both to follow.

Blake slowed just enough to fall in beside Sophia, grin tugging at his mouth. “She likes me.”

“She likes telling me I’m slow,” Sophia corrected.

“Maybe she’s right.”

“Don’t start.” But Blake was already grinning as he pushed ahead, and against her better judgment, Sophia picked up her pace to follow.

He shot her a sidelong look. “For the record, she’s terrifying.”

“She is.” Sophia agreed, peering up ahead at her mother.

“And you just come for dinner.” Her mother called up ahead.






The café was crowded with the late-morning rush. Students in thick sweaters, the clatter of cups, the sweet drift of pastries layered with burnt coffee. Sophia slid into the booth by the window and found Helen already halfway through a croissant, jam smeared carelessly on her napkin.

“You survived,” Helen said around a bite. “Your mother, I mean. I saw her in the lobby yesterday and almost saluted.”

Sophia wrapped her hands around the warm cup of coffee the waiter had just dropped off. “She ran with me this morning.”

Helen froze mid-bite. “She ran.”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And she invited Blake.”

That was enough to make Helen choke on her pastry. She coughed, reached for her cappuccino, then stared at Sophia with wide, gleeful eyes. “Oh my god. She met him.”

Sophia stirred her coffee without drinking. “Briefly.”

“How bad?”

“She told me I was slow and told him he had good shoulders.”

Helen slapped the table, laughing so loudly that a student at the next booth glanced over. “This is my favorite thing I’ve ever heard. Your mother, flirting with my brother— please, let me live in this moment.”

“She wasn’t flirting,” Sophia said, though she wasn’t sure if she was defending her mother or herself.

“She was absolutely flirting.” Helen leaned across the table, eyes sharp. “And what did Blake do?”

“Smiled.”

“Of course he did. He’s unbearable when someone admires him.” Helen sat back, still grinning. “So? Did he say anything after?”

Sophia hesitated, then shrugged, letting the spoon clink against the cup. “Just that she liked him.”

Helen narrowed her eyes. “And?”

“And nothing.”

For a moment, they both sipped their coffee in silence, the café buzzing around them. Then Helen pointed her spoon at her. “You’re hiding something. You always hide something.”

Sophia allowed herself the faintest smile. “Then I’m consistent.”

Helen was halfway through telling a story about a disastrous group project when two shadows fell across the table. Sophia looked up to find Curtis standing there, cigarette tucked behind his ear, and Blake trailing a step behind, hair damp like he hadn’t bothered with a towel after his shower.

“Well,” Curtis said, sliding into the empty seat beside Helen without asking, “this looks conspiratorial.”

Helen groaned but didn’t push him away. “You’ve ruined the flow of my story.”

“Impossible,” Curtis said, stealing the last corner of her croissant. “Nothing ruins a story that wasn’t good to begin with.”

Blake raised a brow and sat across from Sophia, stretching out like the café belonged to him. “And here I thought breakfast was sacred. Instead I find gossip.”

“Not gossip,” Helen shot back. “Anthropology. People are fascinating.”
“People are disasters,” Curtis corrected. “Which is why I avoid them.”

“Except when they’re eating,” Helen muttered.

“Exactly.” He smirked and reached for her cappuccino.

Blake watched the exchange, amused. “You two always like this?”

“Always,” Sophia said, finally cutting into the rhythm.

Helen pointed at her. “Don’t act superior. You’re worse than both of us combined, you just do it quietly.”

Sophia arched a brow. “I was minding my coffee.”

Curtis ignored that, buttering a roll with surgical precision. “So. Who’s imploding this week? I heard Joshua nearly lost his patience with the students in his class.”

Helen perked up. “He yelled, Curtis. Actually yelled. Half the class went silent, the other half were tuning their violins for the grand finally.”

Blake laughed under his breath. “That tracks.”

“And Veronique?” Curtis asked, mouth full.

“She’s on a campaign to make the Easter Hunt bigger than Christmas. You’ll see.” Helen stirred her coffee, rolling her eyes. “We’ll all be tripping over plastic eggs for weeks.”

Curtis smirked. “Festive.”

Blake chuckled, shaking his head. “This castle could fuel its own tabloid.”

“It does,” Curtis said dryly. “We just don’t get the subscription.”

Blake leaned back in his chair, glancing toward Sophia. “And what about you two? Still solving everyone else’s problems before breakfast?”

The table dissolved into easy chatter, small irritations with classes, jokes about who was most likely to end up on probation, Curtis’s deadpan commentary landing like punctuation between Helen’s stories.

two

The hotel dining room was all glass and brass, the kind of place where the silverware was heavier than it needed to be. Sophia had been seated between Federico and Clara, which felt like a deliberate move by her mother.

Helene surveyed the table with satisfaction, eyes sharp even when she smiled. “Well. At least you didn’t bring home anyone boring.”

“Mama,” Sophia said under her breath, but Federico only grinned, raising his glass as if the comment was meant as toast.

“Thank you, Frau—”

“Helene,” she corrected smoothly. “Titles are for strangers.”

Federico leaned back in his chair, entirely at ease. “Helene, then. Sophia undersells you. I see where she gets it from.”

Oskar gave him a sidelong look over the rim of his glass, muttering, “You’re overselling yourself again.”

Clara snorted into her napkin. “He’s not wrong though. Mama’s terrifying.”

“Thank you, Clara,” Helene said, with the precision of someone both complimented and unbothered.

Maximilian, pressed and impeccable in his suit, finally spoke, tone clipped. “You’ve collected quite the… circle, Sophia.” His gaze flicked briefly to Federico, then to Oskar.

Sophia set down her fork. “They’re friends, Max. Not trading cards.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said, reaching for the wine.

“Maximilian,” Helene said in the same voice she used to stop waiters mid-step, “you are tedious when you are condescending. If Sophia has chosen them, then they are worth our table.”

Federico’s grin widened, like he’d just been knighted. “I like you.”

“You would,” Oskar muttered.

Clara leaned across Sophia, bright-eyed. “So, tell me—do you all always meet in castles and wear masks to parties? Because that sounds like a novel I’d actually finish.”

“Pretty much,” Oskar said dryly.

“Not nearly as glamorous as it sounds,” Sophia added, though there was amusement at the corner of her mouth.

Helene tapped her fingers against the stem of her glass, then sighed. “It’s only a pity Blake couldn’t manage tonight. I was curious.” Her tone made it sound less like regret and more like an evaluation missed.

“Mama,” Sophia warned, voice sharp enough to earn her a look from Maximilian, curious and a little smug.

But Helene only continued, unbothered. “He seems— how do you say? A man who knows what to do with himself. Rare. And far less tedious than the professors your father invites to dinner.”

Federico shifted, raising his brows at Sophia with a grin that was too knowing. Oskar focused hard on his plate. Clara leaned forward, delighted. “So there is someone!”

Sophia took a measured sip of her wine. “Mama, eat your soup.”

She turned her sharp gaze on Sophia. “Though you could stand to write more often.”

Sophia inhaled, slow. Federico shifted in his seat, ready to deflect with another easy line, but Sophia only said, “Noted.”

For a moment, silence clung like a held breath. Then Clara broke it, sighing dramatically. “This is fun. Can we do it again tomorrow?”

For a moment, silence clung like a held breath. Then Clara laughed, Maximilian rolled his eyes, and Federico clinked his glass against Sophia’s. “To not boring,” he declared.




The air outside the hotel was sharp with the faint smell of rain, the streets lit in orderly rows. Sophia walked a half-step behind as her parents strolled arm in arm, Federico matching pace with her father, listening with his trademark grin.

“Your family works with numbers then?” her father asked, voice carrying in that measured way of men who were used to being heard.

“My father runs a company,” Federico said easily. “Nothing I’ll bore you with, it’s focused on digital marketing.”

Her father nodded, approving without warmth. “Numbers matter. Risk matters more. Business is only made by people who aren’t afraid to lose.”

Sophia knew what was coming before he turned slightly, his words folding back toward her.

“Sophia,” he said, “was always too careful. Afraid to make a wrong step. Afraid to lose.”

“Mama,” Sophia murmured, half in warning. But Helene only pressed her lips together, a small smile that meant agreement more than defense.

Federico’s brows lifted. “I don’t think afraid is the right word.”

Her father gave him the briefest look, the kind meant to measure and dismiss in one. “Then you don’t know her as I do. She was never going to run a business. But she has other gifts.” His tone softened only slightly, enough to sound like finality. “And she never showed an interest, I’m happy she found something else.”

They reached the hotel entrance. Federico was still smiling, but it was tighter now, his hands tucked into his coat pockets. Sophia managed a polite goodnight, holding her mother’s hug longer than she meant to, before her parents disappeared into the polished lobby.

Silence fell heavy as the doors closed behind them. Federico glanced at her, eyes searching her face. “Careful,” he said at last, with a crooked grin that didn’t quite land, “isn’t the worst thing to be.”

Sophia’s smile was faint, more armor than agreement. “Depends who’s measuring.”

“Careful,” he repeated, the word rolling in his mouth like he couldn’t decide whether to spit it out or swallow it. “If that’s your father’s biggest insult, you’re practically saintly.”

Sophia huffed a laugh, low and without humor. “Saints are boring.”

“Please. You? Boring?” He glanced sideways, the grin slipping closer to genuine now. “I’ve seen boring. You don’t even know the meaning.”

“Maybe he’s right.” Her voice was steady, but the words tasted bitter. “I was never reckless. Not like Maximilian. Not like Clara.”

Federico kicked at a loose stone, sending it skittering ahead of them. “Yeah, well. Maybe reckless isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Max looks like he’s swallowed a ruler half the time, and Clara… Clara’s a child. Cute, but a child.”

Sophia let herself smile at that. “You don’t know her.”

“I don’t need to. I know you.” He stopped just short of saying more, pressing his lips together before adding, “Careful doesn’t mean afraid. Careful means… deliberate. Calculated.”

“Like you?”

He barked a laugh, sharp in the empty street. “God, no. I’m chaos. Ask anyone. Especially your mother. She loved me, by the way.”

“She loves drama.”

“Exactly,” he said, grinning again. “Which is why she’ll never admit she was impressed you survived me this long.” Sophia shook her head, but the tightness in her chest had loosened just a fraction.

At the castle gates, Federico hesitated, hands still buried in his pockets. “For what it’s worth, Soph— careful or not— you’re the one person I’d trust not to drop the ball.”

She glanced at him, brows lifting. “High praise.”

“The highest.” He gave her a crooked smile, then tipped his head toward the dorms. “Now I’ll go to bed before I say something stupid and ruin my good reputation.”

“You don’t have one,” she said, but her mouth curved faintly as she stepped inside.

three

Sophia nudged the door open without knocking, balancing a bag of popcorn in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. Federico was sprawled across his bed, shoes kicked off, flipping through channels without paying attention to any of them.

“You look tragic,” she said, setting the bag down.

“You look bossy,” he shot back, but he reached for the popcorn anyway.

She rolled her eyes, toeing her shoes off before climbing up beside him. The TV buzzed as he settled on some black-and-white film neither of them had seen, the kind you could half-watch and still follow.

For a while it was easy, their shoulders bumping, sharing the popcorn, laughing at the stilted dialogue. It was what they always did, slipping into a rhythm so natural it was hard to tell who had started what joke.

But somewhere in the lull, when the movie softened into a quiet scene, Federico said, low, “I’ve been weird.”

Sophia glanced at him, but he was staring at the screen, jaw tense.

“I noticed,” she said, careful.

He rubbed his hand over his face, letting out a breath. “I’m jealous and afraid…” His voice cracked on the admission, but once it was out he kept going. “Jealous of him. Afraid of losing you. What if that’s it? What if I lose you?”

The film played on, shadows flickering across the walls.

“I know.” Sophia rested her chin against her knees, quiet for a long time. “It will change, at one point or another as we go through the lull of life.” She shrugged her shoulders. “But we’ll still be friends. Still watch movies. Still laugh.”

Federico finally looked at her then, the tension in his face easing just slightly. “You make it sound so clean. Like we could just… decide not to screw it up.”

“We could,” she said, almost smiling. “We’re annoyingly good at deciding things.”

That got him to laugh, sharp but genuine, and he shoved the popcorn at her. “Fine. But don’t make me sit through Casablanca again. I’ll die of boredom.”

Sophia smirked, leaning back into the pillows. “You’re hopeless.”

“Hopeless and honest,” he countered. “You should be grateful.” The movie droned on, forgotten, as their conversation picked back up.



The library was nearly empty, late afternoon light spilling across the long oak tables. Sophia had drifted there out of habit more than need, her books open but untouched.

Oskar slid into the chair opposite her without a word, setting down two coffees, hers black, his loaded with sugar.

“You looked like you’d forget to eat,” he said simply.

Sophia blinked at him, then smirked. “You forget too.”

“Yeah,” he admitted, stretching out, his hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows. “Difference is, I don’t look like I’m about to unravel an entire thesis by staring at it.”

She huffed out a laugh, leaning back. “Unraveling’s part of the method.”

“Or madness.” He stirred his coffee idly, watching her over the rim of the cup. “You alright?”

Sophia hesitated, then shrugged. “Federico’s… complicated right now.”

Oskar didn’t flinch or pry. He just nodded once, slow, like he’d already expected it. “He’s always complicated. But you two—” He tapped his fingers lightly on the table. “You balance each other. Don’t forget that.”

Sophia tilted her head, studying him. “You sound like you’ve been rehearsing that.”

“Please. I don’t rehearse anything.” His grin was quick, crooked. Then it faded, his tone more serious. “Just—don’t let him pull you under if he starts to sink. You’re not his life raft, Sophia.”

The words landed heavier than she expected, enough to make her pause before answering. “You make it sound like I’m in danger of drowning.”

Oskar leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out. “We all are. That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. Just charged in that strange way Oskar had—half blunt, half tender.

Sophia took a slow sip of her coffee, meeting his gaze across the table. “You’re better at this than you think.”

“What, pep talks?”

“Keeping people afloat.”

He looked at her then gave a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Guess we’ll see how long I last.”

”Come on, let's go before I change my mind.” Sophia sighed as she slid her folder into her bag.

Dusk soaked the courtyard in a pale wash of blue as they left the library. Oskar fell into step beside her, his hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket, walking with that slow, uneven gait of someone dragging their thoughts along with them. For a while they didn’t speak. Gravel crunched underfoot. Sophia adjusted the strap of her bag, waiting him out the way she sometimes did Federico.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “Can I ask you something?”

Sophia glanced at him. “You just did.”

“Smartass.” He scratched the back of his neck, still looking straight ahead. “I just—” His words snagged. He tried again. “What happened with you and Federico?”

Her steps slowed a fraction. “What do you mean?”

Oskar grimaced. “Valentine’s. You two went out. And lately he’s… I don’t know, weird. Tense. Like I walked in halfway through a conversation I wasn’t supposed to hear.”

Sophia let out a quiet laugh, though it wasn’t sharp, more tired. “We had dinner, watched a film. It was nice.”

“Nice,” Oskar repeated, flat.

“Yes, Oskar. Nice.” She tugged her coat tighter, eyes on the stones. “But he’s still Federico, and I’m still me.”

That seemed to settle him a little, but not enough. He kicked at a stray pebble, hands still buried in his hoodie. “I just… ”

Sophia stopped walking then, turning to look at him properly. “You won’t lose me. Even if Federico and I implode spectacularly, you won’t lose me. Nor him really.”

Oskar met her eyes, the lamplight catching in them. For once, he didn’t deflect with a joke. He just nodded, sharp, like he needed to believe her. “Good. Because I don’t… I don’t really do groups, Sophia. Not like this. It’s different with you two.”

Her chest tightened, but she only smiled faintly, the kind of smile that didn’t break the moment. “You’re stuck with us, Oskar.”

His grin came then, crooked, easing the weight. “Lucky me.”

Sophia exhaled through her nose, then said, almost like a thought escaping, “You know Federico never really loved me. Not like that.”

Oskar looked over, brow furrowing.

She kept her gaze ahead. “If anything, it was… platonic. He tried to compete with Blake, but that wasn’t love. It was fear. Fear of someone else drawing my attention away from him.”

Oskar was quiet for a beat, processing. Then he huffed a laugh, not mocking, more resigned. “That sounds like him. Can’t stand not being the center of the room, even with the people who matter.”

Sophia’s mouth curved faintly. “Exactly.”

They rounded the corner, gravel crunching underfoot. Oskar’s tone softened. “At least you know the difference.”

“I have to,” she said simply. “Otherwise I’d mistake attachment for affection, or possession for care.”

He nodded once, slow, like he understood more than he was saying. “Doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you, though. Just… his own way. Messy. Selfish. But real enough.”

Sophia glanced at him, thoughtful. “Maybe. But that’s why it has to stay friendship. Anything else, and it unravels.”

four

The bar in Luzern was warm and crowded, all amber light and clinking glasses. Their table had been tucked toward the back, half-shadowed by shelves lined with bottles. Helen was already in full swing, wine glass in hand, recounting a story with the fervor of someone who’d been waiting for the right audience.

“So there I was,” she said, leaning across the table, “first week at that bloody consultancy in London. Fresh out of Cambridge, still convinced I was the smartest person in the room.”

“You were,” Curtis cut in.

Helen waved him off, laughing. “No, no, that’s the problem. They knew I thought that. And the CEO, this absolute shark of a man, hands me this briefing on, oh, I don’t even remember—South China Sea, oil exploration, something—”

“Sexy stuff,” Curtis said dryly.

Helen threw a napkin at him. “Anyway, I’m up all night writing this meticulous report. References, data, proper footnotes. I thought I was about to single-handedly solve geopolitical conflict.”

Sophia smirked into her glass. “And?”

Helen sighed dramatically. “Next morning, I hand it in. He flips through maybe two pages, doesn’t even look at me, and says, ‘This is useless. No politician reads footnotes.’”

The table laughed. Curtis tapped his glass against the table. “And thus, a political scientist was born.”

Helen cackled, nearly spilling her wine. “Exactly! The man accidentally set me on my path. Though honestly, I think he just couldn’t read properly.”

Sophia leaned back in her chair, enjoying the way Helen’s laughter filled the space. Blake, opposit to  her, had a faint grin tugging at his mouth.

When Helen finally took a breath, sipping her wine with a flourish, Curtis added, “Best part is, she’s still adding footnotes. Just refuses to admit it.” Helen swatted his shoulder, but her grin gave her away.

Blake leaned toward Sophia under the cover of the noise, his voice pitched just for her. “Your friend’s dangerous with a stage.”

“She doesn’t need one,” Sophia murmured back. “Give her a chair and a glass of wine and she’ll rewrite history.”

Blake’s smile deepened, eyes flicking over her face. “Remind me to stay on her good side.”

Sophia tilted her glass toward him, wry. “Might be too late.” He chuckled, low and private.

Helen drained the last of her wine, pushing her chair back with a sigh. “Alright, I need air before Curtis makes me laugh myself into a headache.”

Curtis smirked, rising beside her. “Translation: she wants a cigarette, but blames me.”

“Correct,” Helen said brightly, already reaching for her coat. “Try not to cause trouble while we’re gone.”

As they slipped outside, the table fell quieter, the bar’s noise spilling in as the door swung shut. Blake shifted, abandoning his seat across from Sophia to drop into the one Helen had left beside her. Close enough that the space between them thinned, his jacket brushing her sleeve.

“Having fun?” he asked, his voice pitched lower now, meant only for her.

Sophia tilted her head, pretending to weigh it. “I suppose. Birthday boys aren’t usually this tolerable.”

His grin tugged sideways. “Careful, I’ll get used to that.”

He leaned an elbow on the table, close enough that his shoulder almost touched hers. His hand brushed lightly against her arm as if by accident, though he didn’t move it away. Instead, he let his fingers rest against the edge of her chair, not quite touching, but near enough she felt the suggestion of it.

Sophia glanced at him, lips curving. “Is this where you use your birthday as an excuse for bad behavior?”

“Who says it’s bad?” Blake countered, the corner of his mouth catching on a smirk. “Maybe I’m just seeing how close I can sit before you tell me to move.”

“Maybe I’m waiting to see how bold you’ll get before I do.”

That earned her a low laugh, his eyes lingering, brighter in the dim light of the bar. He nudged her shoulder with his, deliberately this time. “Not bad for tolerable.”

She let the silence stretch, letting him feel the pause, then tipped her glass toward him. “Don’t make it a habit.”

“Too late,” he murmured, clinking against her glass without looking away.



The streets of Luzern were slick with rain, cobblestones shining under the lamps. The night air was cool, carrying the faint echo of laughter spilling from doorways they passed.

They walked side by side, steps in easy rhythm, not hurried. Sophia tucked her hands into her coat pockets, the wine settling into her bloodstream like a glow she didn’t want to name. Blake kept his jacket open despite the chill, tie undone, shoulders loose in a way she’d never seen during the day.

“They’re good together,” he said finally, nodding vaguely back toward where Helen and Curtis had disappeared.

Sophia glanced at him, amused. “That’s one way to put it.”

He grinned, eyes catching hers briefly before returning to the path ahead. “What’s your way?”

“Loud. Chaotic. But it works.”

“Sounds familiar.” His tone was teasing, but softer now, as though the night itself muted the edges.

They crossed a bridge, the river below reflecting the fractured light. For a while, neither spoke. Blake’s hand brushed hers once, maybe by accident, maybe not. He didn’t move away, and she didn’t either, though the space between them remained intact.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” he said after a stretch, voice pitched low.

“It was your birthday,” she replied, her tone even. “What was I supposed to do, ignore it?”

“That would’ve been cruel.” His grin curved, but it didn’t quite chase away the steadiness in his eyes when he glanced at her.

By the time the castle loomed ahead, the path had emptied of other voices. Sophia slowed as they reached the dorm wing, stopping just short of the entrance.

Blake stopped too, turning toward her. The lamplight caught on his face, softer now, stripped of the bar’s noise and warmth. “Really,” he said, quieter this time. “I’m glad you were there.”

Sophia let a faint smile pull at her lips. “Goodnight, Blake.”

But neither of them moved. His hand shifted toward her arm, brushing the fabric of her sleeve, and he leaned just slightly closer, close enough that the cool air between them felt charged. Her breath hitched, and for a heartbeat the world seemed to shrink down to lamplight, stone, and the heat of proximity.

Then the door creaked open behind her. Laughter spilled out, two students stumbling back in from the bar, their voices breaking the stillness.

Blake pulled back instantly, his grin returning like a shield. “Saved by the bell.”

Sophia exhaled, the spell cracked. She slipped through the door as the students passed, throwing him one last look over her shoulder.

“Goodnight, Blake.”

His reply was softer, almost swallowed by the laughter still echoing in the hall. “Goodnight, Sophia.”

five

Helen’s kitchen smelled of garlic and onions, the sizzle of olive oil filling the quiet apartment. Sophia leaned against the counter, sleeves rolled, methodically slicing zucchini into coins while Helen clattered through drawers looking for the corkscrew.

“Do you ever notice how kitchen utensils just… vanish?” Helen muttered, triumphantly holding up a wine opener. “I swear Curtis pocketed mine the last time he was here.”

Sophia arched a brow. “That seems like a strange souvenir.”

“You don’t know him like I do,” Helen said, laughing as she pulled the cork free. “He’s the kind of man who steals your corkscrew and then buys you a bottle of wine that needs one.” She poured them both a glass, handed one over, then hopped onto the counter across from Sophia. Her ankle bumped the cabinet door, restless.

Sophia slid the cutting board aside. “You’ve seen him a lot lately.”

“Mm.” Helen swirled the wine but didn’t drink. “A few dinners. A walk after class. Coffee, once. It’s… nice.”

Sophia studied her, waiting.

Helen groaned and tipped her head back. “Fine. It’s too nice. That’s the problem. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or for him to suddenly say he’s not looking for anything serious. Again.”

“You asked?”

Helen shook her head, hair brushing her shoulders. “No. And that’s the thing—I don’t want to. I don’t want to ruin it by poking at it too early. Last time I asked, the answer was… not great.”

Sophia finally picked up her glass. “You’re scared it’s another situationship.”

“Yes!” Helen pointed with her wine. “And I’m too old for situationships. But I like him. Which means I can’t think straight.” She huffed, then smirked. “You wouldn’t understand, of course. You have that terrifying ability to seem completely unbothered.”

“Not unbothered,” Sophia said quietly. “Just better at hiding it.”

Helen narrowed her eyes, as though testing the weight of that. “Then maybe you should teach me. Because right now, I feel like I’m one mixed signal away from panic.”

“You already know what you want,” Sophia said, turning back to the stove, stirring the pan. “That’s more than most people.”

Helen slid down from the counter, coming to stand beside her. “Yeah. And what about you?”

Sophia didn’t look up from the spoon. “What about me?”

Helen bumped her shoulder, playful but probing. “Don’t play dumb. Do you want something from him, or are you just hiding too?”

The zucchini hissed as Sophia dropped it into the pan. “Dinner’s almost ready,” she said, too calmly.

Helen laughed, not fooled. “Uh-huh. Avoidance: noted.”

six

The courtyard had been transformed, pastel ribbons strung between trees, baskets piled high at the entrance, the faint clamor of students already racing off into the hedges with varying degrees of competitiveness. The air smelled faintly of chocolate and damp grass.

Sophia stood with a wicker basket hooked over her arm, watching as Federico plucked one of the foil-wrapped eggs straight from a child-sized bunny mascot’s basket and dropped it into his own.

“That’s cheating,” she said flatly.

Federico grinned, shrugging. “It’s called efficiency.” He glanced at Oskar. “Back me up.”

Oskar, already peeling the foil off an egg he’d found under a bench, smirked. “That’s theft, not efficiency.”

“Semantics,” Federico said breezily, popping the egg into his mouth.

Sophia shook her head, smiling despite herself. “I can’t believe they let you back every year.”

“Tradition,” Federico countered, then raised his basket with mock solemnity. “I propose a wager. Whoever collects the most eggs by the end of the hunt wins.”

Oskar rolled his eyes. “Wins what?”

Federico’s grin turned sharp. “Bragging rights. And the eternal glory of knowing Sophia will sulk when she loses.”

“I don’t sulk,” she said.

“Mm.” He tilted his head, studying her too closely, then added lightly, “Maybe Blake could back you up on that one.”

Sophia’s eyes flicked to him, a little too fast. Federico caught it, of course, and his grin widened like he’d scored a point.

“Drop it,” she warned, but her tone lacked real bite.

Oskar chuckled, shaking his head. “Federico, if you spent half the energy on hunting as you do on stirring, you’d win every year.”

“I do win every year,” Federico said easily, looping his arm through Sophia’s and tugging her toward the hedges. “But this time, I’ll let her sweat a little.”

Sophia sighed, adjusting her basket, though her lips curved faintly. Oskar fell into step on her other side, his grin understated but genuine, like he was simply glad to be there, watching the two of them bicker in circles.

Sophia bent down, slipped off her high heels, and hooked them by the straps through her basket’s handle. The grass was still damp underfoot, cool against her feet, but the relief outweighed the discomfort.

“You’re really going to run barefoot?” Federico said, brows lifting.

“If it means beating you,” she replied, adjusting the basket under her arm.

Oskar snorted. “Now it’s serious.”

Federico grinned, pleased. “Good. I like you better when you’re competitive.”

She left them mid-banter, darting toward the east wing hedges, sharp eyes skimming the ground for foil glints. The sound of their voices faded behind her, replaced by the quieter echo of footsteps falling into rhythm beside her.

“Shoes off already?” Blake’s voice, low and amused, carried easily in the hush between buildings.

She didn’t turn, but her mouth curved. “Helps me win.”

“Does it?” He matched her pace, jacket collar flipped up against the breeze, his basket only containing one or two eggs. “Veronique always hides a few by the teachers’ wing. No one ever checks there.”

Sophia gave him a sidelong look, skeptical. “And you’re just telling me?”

“I like competition,” he said, leaning in just slightly as they ran. “Especially when it’s you.”

Something sparked under her ribs, sharp and unsteady. She said nothing, just lifted her basket in challenge. “Then keep up.”

They broke into a sprint toward the narrow stairwell, laughter and shouts from the courtyard fading behind them. His arm brushed hers as they rounded the corner, not quite accidental.

The stairwell was quiet, dust motes floating where sunlight sliced through a narrow window. The clamor of the egg hunt was muffled here, distant shouts and laughter bleeding faintly through the stone walls.

By the time they hit the stone steps, their breaths had shortened, echoing off the walls. He took the lead by a half-step, reached the alcove first, and caught the glint of foil tucked in a high niche. Victory,” he said, grin sharp. “And you claimed this wasn’t a competition.”

Sophia leaned against the wall, catching her breath, eyes narrowing. “You cheated.”

“I was faster.” He slipped the egg into his pocket, stepping closer, voice lower now hushed. “Careful doesn’t win, Sophia. You’re always too careful.”

She didn’t move, only tilted her chin slightly, like weighing the accusation. Blake leaned in another fraction, his shoulder almost brushing hers. “And you know what they say—” his words slower now, threaded with that teasing lilt he always used when he thought he had the upper hand, “—the prize tastes sweetest when you steal it first.”

His gaze flicked down, then back up, deliberate, the corner of his mouth catching on a grin that didn’t quite form. She could feel the heat of him, the suggestion of more, his voice pitched like a dare.

Sophia didn’t answer. Didn’t roll her eyes or fire back the sharp retort he might’ve expected. Instead, as he leaned in, she simply closed the gap herself. Brushing against him, just once, lips slightly parted, like testing a wire to see if it would spark. It was over in a breath, leaving the air charged, pulse loud in her ears. She pulled back quickly, as if it hadn’t happened at all.

Blake stilled, lips parted, eyes locked on her. The space between them hummed and there were just their breaths and the commotion outside all muffled. Then the stairwell held the silence for them, heavy and alive. He reached out caught her by the wrist and—

“Blake? Sophia?” A student’s voice, somewhere below, drawing closer. “Did you find anything up here?”

Sophia broke away, fast, as if the air itself had pushed them apart. Blake’s hand lingered an instant longer at her wrist before he let go, his grin returning but unsteady now, sharp edges dulled.

She smoothed her hair with deliberate calm, voice even. “Just dust.”

Blake chuckled low, stepping back, his eyes still on her. “And treasure.” He patted his pocket lightly, as though the egg mattered more than what had just happened.

The footsteps rounded the corner, a first-year appearing breathless. “Nothing up there?”

Sophia shook her head. “Nothing worth taking.”

The student darted off again, and the stairwell quieted once more but the moment was gone, suspended between them like something they couldn’t touch again, not yet.

Blake glanced at her, one brow raised, his voice pitched low enough for only her. “We’ll see about that. Not so careful now,” he murmured, voice roughened.

Sophia exhaled, a half-smile pulling at her despite herself. “Don’t get used to it.”

He adjusted himself. ”Coffee?” Blake bounced down one of the steps, stopping to look back at her.

”I’ll miss hugging the Easter bunny.” Sophia retorted with a deadpan expression.

“I’ll give you as many hugs as you’d like.” He grinned widely, like a teenager realising they could spell boobs on the calculator.

“How stoic.” Sophia’s cheeks went rosey, probably from sprinting.

Complete

Last edited by Mimira (10/09/2025 at 07:52)

“Quiet people have the loudest minds” Stephen Hawking

Name| Amy Janis "AJ" Sallow
FC| Ricky Aimee
Age| 24, 2 September

Place of Birth| Oxford, England

Role| Old student; 2nd year studying Business Management
Interest| Marijke(R), Oskar(F), Kennedy(F), Leah(F) and Benedikt(F)

Chapter Four

Last edited by NinaJones (16/09/2025 at 17:53)

Round 5 will close on 16th September at 10 pm Forum Time

At Summerville Castle, the end of the school year always arrived with a peculiar mixture of relief, exhaustion, and a bittersweet sense of time slipping away. The ivy on the old stone walls had deepened into a lush green, and the lake shimmered with the first steady warmth of summer. Inside the lecture halls, however, the air was heavy with tension... final exams in progress.

Yet, as demanding as these last weeks were, everyone looked forward to what came after... the Summerville Garden Party on the 13th June. White tents were set along the lawns, lanterns were strung through the trees, and music drifted across the gardens. The Garden Party was more than just a festivity... it was a tradition that marked the rhythm of Summerville life. For first-years, it was a promise of what lay ahead. For graduates, it was a farewell, both joyous and tinged with melancholy, as they looked out over the castle and gardens for perhaps the last time as students.

A few days after the Garden Party, Headmistress Veronique Piquet makes the official announcement that after a long discussion with the university board, it was decided that Summerville Castle will remain open for the future. Scholarship students would continue to be welcomed, ensuring that talent, ambition, and potential would be the true measures of entry, not privilege alone.

Garden Party Dates:

Leon & Mila
Blake & Sophia
Simon & Eliza
Oskar & Kennedy
Curtis & Helen

TBC

Birthdays in May & June

Eliza – 1st June: Spa day with Mila followed by a celebration in a club in Luzern

Leah – 8th May: celebrating in Luzern with TBD

Oskar – 29th June: small get together with Federico and Sophia... maybe TBC

Joshua – 21st June: Celebrating in his favourite pub with Curtis and Helen. He would invite Mila (plus Leon) too.

Requirements:
* Form (Name, Age, FC)
* Interests: max 5. You can change them anytime. And please indicate if they are romantic or friendly
* Outfit (Optional) for the Garden Party. You are allowed to do more of course.
* Story of May and June in Summerville, focusing on any interaction with your interest, the Garden Party
There will be some plot points for your Extras in the Impressions

Last edited by schoggettchen (11/09/2025 at 19:46)

Note: There will be some plot ideas related to your Extras in your impressions.

Amy Janis "AJ" Sallow

TBA

Matilda Baranova Galanis

Leon:

May:

June:

Joshua:

May:

June:

Helen:

May:

June:

Eliza:

May:

June:

Sophia von Adelberg

Blake: He had thought he had fogged Sophia out by now... sharp, deliberate, always weighing her steps like she was dancing across a chessboard only she could see. And yet, when she had leaned in, closing that breath of space between them in the stairwell - finally acting on the tension that had built up between them - careful was the last thing she was in that moment. It hadn't been planned, not the way Sophia usually did things. Blake could tell that she hadn't measured it... hadn't tested the ground before stepping. She had just done it and now that Blake had gotten a taste, he knew it would be even harder for him to keep his distance... not that he wanted to stay away. Sophia had acted like nothing had happened after she had kissed him... smoothing her hair like nothing had shifted at all between them. But Blake had learned to read her better. He knew that she let you see only as much as she wanted, the rest tucked behind steady hands and wry smiles. He did wonder though if Sophia even knew how much she pulled people in... if she even realised how badly Blake wanted to keep pressing and teasing just to see if she would break that perfect composure again. Sophia was all edges and restraint on the outside, but he had seen enough to know there was more heat beneath than she would ever admit. And Blake, reckless as he was, found himself wanting to be the one who lit it.

May: Blake is trying to juggle his time between exams, grading papers, and finding time for Sophia. There would be still morning runs, touches, more kisses and him occasionally inviting her out for the night. Now and then mentioning that Sophia is allowed to stay the night too if she wants. Despite his usual charms and obvious interest in her, he wouldn't push too much if he senses that it is going too fast for her.

June: With the exams over, Blake would have more time for Sophia. He is enjoying her company, loves seeing different sides about her and he is intrigued to find out how things are going to develop between them during the summer break. He would casually drop that he is spending part of the summer in New York and the other part in Geneva. Sophia is more than welcome to join him.

Federico: He would never admit it to her face, but she was the one person who could both ground him and undo him in the same breath. With everyone else, charm was easy... smooth lined, crooked smiles, the kind of effortless banter he could spin like silk. With Sophia, it wasn't enough... she saw through it, cut past it, abd somehow didn't flinch when he tried to distract her with theatrics. That unnerved him more than he liked to admit. Sophia's kind of careful was sharper than recklessness... every word measured, every silence deliberate. She revealed nothing she didn’t choose to. Federico admired that she could sit in the middle of chaos - his chaos - and looked almost serene. But he also feared it... feared that one day she would she had enough, that his noise wasn't worth her quiet. He trusted her... more than anyone and more than be should. And Federico couldn't even imagine - nor did he wanted to - what it would be without Sophia in his life. She was one of his closest friends... she was the one person who made him believe he could be more than chaos.

May: He is full in exam panic mode again... spending time in the library or with his nose buried in his notes. Oskar makes sure that he doesn't forget to eat. Federico will do a little celebration at the end of the month once exams are done... Blake would be invited too (Federico is trying his best)

June: Federico is excited for the summer break as he has a few plans besides visiting his family. He will playfully threaten Sophia that he will definitely pay her a visit during the summer. He is slowly getting used to the idea of her and Blake though he still worries about losing her as a friend.

Helen: Sophia had always been impossible to read and Helen, who prided herself on being able to dissect people in seconds, found her friend maddening in that way... quiet where she was loud, deliberate where she was impulsive and withholding where Helen wanted everything spilled out on the table. And yet, Sophia was the person she trusted to hold the edges of her chaos. There was a steadiness about her that never slipped, even when she claimed she was fraying. She could stand in the middle of all that chaos... and somehow absorb it without bending. Helen knows it wasn't indifference... it was a kind of patience, rare and razor-edgedy the sort that made people lean toward her without even realising they were doing it. Sophia never cracked under the weight of expectation, she simply stepped around it smooth as a shadow. But Helen also knew that wasn’t the whole story... she caught the flickers behind her composed façade at times. She knew that Sophia wasn't unbothered....no, she was just disciplined. And Helen suspected that if she ever stopped guarding herself, the flood would be something no one could control. And with Sophia, no matter how close they stood, there was always a door she hadn't yet unlocked.

May: Things with Curtis are going well after Helen finally had the courage to talk with him about their situation. They agreed to take it slow but he will be around Helen’s place a few times. She would still find time for Sophia and their girl dinners. Helen can see that she and Blake are happy and she has a hard time not asking too many questions.

June: With exams over, Helen will have more time and there would be a few coffee dates in Luzern. She and Curtis made plans for the summer and she will be very curious if Sophia plans on visiting Blake during the break. Blake warned her not to be too curious but Helen will always be Helen.

Oskar: Sophia was one of his closest friends... in a way almost like a sister to him. And yet at times, she was hard to pin down. Not because she was elusive in the way Federico was, always darting out of reach, but because she carried a steadiness that made people forget sbe was just as breakable as anyone else. With her silence never felt awkward... no, she made it feel safe and Oskar liked that about Sophia. What struck him most was how she seemingly carried the weight of everyone else without letting it show the slightest... whether it was Federico or her family. Sophia gave and gave, and Oskar found himself watching to make sure that she wasn't swallowed whole by the very people who loved her. She wasn't flawless... she could be distant, stubborn, and too quick to shoulder things alone. But it was those cracks that made her human, that made ber real to him in a way the others weren't. She didn't ask him to perform, didn't expect him to be charming or entertaining. Oskar wasn't even sure if she even knew that about herself....how much calmer the world felt when she was around. Sophia wasn't just a friend... she was the anchor in a group that didn't always know how to keep itself together. And maybe, in ways he wasn’t ready to name, she was his anchor too.

May: He knows that Sophia has been drowning herself in her thesis, spending hours in the library writing and checking over the interviews she had conducted. Oskar will occasionally check on her, remind her to take a break and maybe even drag her to the cafeteria to make sure that she eats something.

June: School’s year is coming to an end and Oskar wants to make the best out of their time together before the summer holidays (of course respecting that Sophia will spend time with Blake too). He will be spending his summer in Sweden reminding her and Federico not to be strangers and that they can visit.

You may post now

Last edited by schoggettchen (11/09/2025 at 20:07)

“Quiet people have the loudest minds” Stephen Hawking

Name| Amy Janis "AJ" Sallow
FC| Ricky Aimee
Age| 24, 2 September

Place of Birth| Oxford, England

Role| Old student; 2nd year studying Business Management
Interest| Marijke(R), Oskar(F), Kennedy(F), Leah(F) and Benedikt(F)

Chapter Five

Last edited by NinaJones (16/09/2025 at 17:53)

MILA

Love looks pretty on you, look pretty on me

It didn’t have to feel like it, but it somehow did. Like I was neck-deep in a pile of lies, when there was only one thing I wanted to do.

Vika wasn’t happy, while Dad was okay with the whole situation. Ursula didn’t like the idea of dropping out, but she did like the idea of taking a year off from studies to work - it showed potential, according to her. I did promise to finish this year, even this badly. And Lena didn’t seem to mind; it felt, her playground was hers to rule again.

And I think I made a shitty mistake of telling Eliza first. Ambition in her didn’t like it, but whatever softness was trying to hide ended up showing up in the conversation, because she simply made me promise to visit over the holidays.

And then, I found myself here, outside of Leon’s classroom, waiting for him to be done with it.

Which took time, in my mind, but by the time the last batch of students left the room, I walked in looking paler than usual. “Don’t tell me you had only coffee today,” he noted.

“I think I forgot even coffee,” I managed a smile as I approached. “I need to talk to you.”

His brow goes up. “You will eventually stop bullying my style, aren’t you?”

“I can’t commit to that,” I chuckled. “Turns out, I’m shitty at committing to many things, school being one, too.”

He set the books down, closing the laptop, and he seemed confused. “What?”

“I’m thinking about— no, I’m not thinking about it, I just,” I shrugged, exhaling. “I’m not returning for the next year.”

Now, he looked surprised. Not in a good way. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” I shrugged. “I’m staying here for the rest of the summer, or we can go to London, where I live, if you want, not that you have to.”

“I could tell this wasn’t your place,” his tone is sombre.

“Few places are,” I admit. “Usually, they do not have to do with academia.”

“I’m not sure what to say,” he gave a nervous chuckle.

“I mean, one strong yes about spending the summer together would be a good start,” I made the words slip, but it wasn’t as nerve-wrecking as I thought it would be. “I mean, if you want—”

“I do,” he nodded. “Was that even under question?”

“I mean, no, not for me, and I hoped the same applied to both,” I admit. “I mean—”

“And after that?”

I shrugged a little, keeping my arms crossed at my chest. “I don’t know, I mean, I can definitely visit, and you should too, it’s close—”

“No, I meant, what’s next for you?”

“I’ll try working,” I said. “Well, internships, Vika has connections everywhere that’s fashion-related, and there are a lot of opportunities in Europe.”

“So, exploring?”

“Trying to pinpoint the direction,” I said. It wasn’t a lie, or a nicely-packaged delusion that was meant to sound well. “I might not be sure of what I want, but I’m quite positive this school is not it.”

“But?”

“But, there’s you,” I added, arms dropping. “I don’t want to sound sappy—”

“Or even worse, emotional,” he tried a joke, but he was leaning on his desk, and there’s nothing happy or optimistic about his attitude in my opinion. My heart dropped, and my stomach a mess.

“Yeah, imagine if I told you I loved you now,” I joked. “Wouldn’t that be the worst thing you ever heard?”

“Definitely in my top five,” he joked, and I smiled, appreciative of the downplay.

“I mean, it’s what’s happening,” I nodded. “And no pressure, but I would love to see where this is going, regardless of our location,”

“Regardless of the fact that it wouldn’t be easy?”

“Life goes easy on me, most of the time,” I joked. “Perhaps the good luck continues.”

Leon wasn’t readable this time, not really - and I ran laps in my mind around what might happen next.

“Look,” I couldn’t keep silent more. “I care about you, and you care about me —and that’s enough,” I finished, quieter than I intended.

He blinked, looked at my hands, then back at my face like he was piecing the rest together from whatever I’d handed him. For a second the classroom smelled like chalk and late-afternoon sunlight and something else I couldn’t name — possibility, maybe, or the ache right before a decision.

“You’re serious,” he said finally.

“As a bad decision I already made,” I answered. “And as a promise I plan to keep.”

Leon let out a breath that could have been a laugh or a prayer. He pushed his chair back, stood, and for the first time since I’d known him, he closed the small distance between us without the usual teasing. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, the motion impossibly gentle. “Okay,” he said. “Summer, then. London, if you want; here if you don’t. We figure it out as we go.”

I wanted to tell him about the way my chest had unclenched the moment I’d decided to stop pretending I liked the plan that had been laid out for me. I wanted to tell him how the thought of being near him, whether in a crowded flat in Notting Hill or on a bench by the river here, felt like the only honest thing I’d said all month. Instead, I smiled, because some things are better felt than explained.

“And Eliza?” he asked, eyebrow twitching. It was small, practical, what you’d expect him to do.

“She made me promise to come here for the holidays,” I said. “So that’s not changing. Besides, she’s more worried about me turning into a cliché than about us.”

He snorted. “Good to know I don’t make the cliché list alone.”

We both laughed, softer than the room deserved. Outside, a group of students drifted past the window like confident boats. Inside, time folded into this little quiet space we’d carved.

“Will this be… hard?” he asked after a pause, and it was the question I’d been skirting around all afternoon. The one about logistics and distance and the small betrayals that lived inside schedules.

“Probably,” I said honestly. “And messy. And infuriating. But I’m tired of doing things because they look right on paper. I want to try doing something that feels like it fits my bones, even if it doesn’t pay rent at first.”

He nodded. “Then let’s be messy together,” he said. “We’ll be terrible at it and brilliant at some nights, and annoyed at each other a lot. But we’ll keep trying.”

There was a pause where the whole stupid adult future felt terrifyingly big. My throat went dry. I reached for his hand and he gave it back like a souvenir, steady, warm, real.

“Promise me one thing,” he said.

“What?”

“That when you get scared, you tell me. Even if it’s a tiny thing. Even if it’s that you forgot coffee and you think it’s symbolic.”

I laughed and squeezed his fingers. “Deal. And you promise to tell me when your sarcasm is actually masking panic.”

“Deal.”

We stood there, fingers interlaced, while the last light thinned and the classroom emptied into the ordinary. For a moment, I let myself believe the pile of lies that had felt so suffocating a few hours ago could be sunned out and, maybe, put away. The truth was small and wobbly and stubborn: I wanted to be near him. I wanted to try work, to taste the world beyond the lecture hall, to be allowed to fail in a place that wasn’t graded by someone else.

“Whatever happens,” I said, because nothing seals an agreement like slightly dramatic phrasing, “we will be sure we tried.”

Outside, a bicycle bell rang; a student called someone’s name. Inside, Leon leaned his forehead against mine, and the rest of the world compressed into a single, ordinary now. It didn’t erase everything complicated waiting on the other side, but it made the next step feel like something I could take.

I exhaled, and for the first time in weeks, the breath tasted a little like possibility.

Terribly short, but done.

Last edited by Zaralee (17/09/2025 at 14:26)

Sophia von Adelberg
Face claim: Louise Fankhänel
Age: 24, December 6th
Old student - 2nd year into her master in psychology




Interests: Blake, Federico, Helen, Eliza and Oskar (if enough or anyone else you think fits better)

one

Early evening the sky had already begun to slip into violet when Sophia caught sight of Blake on the steps outside the castle, a stack of folders tucked under his arm. He spotted her almost immediately, that quick flash of recognition sliding into something more deliberate as he slowed his pace.

“Escaping the library?” he asked.

“Temporarily,” she said as he levelled by stepping down the last step. “The walls were starting to hum.”

“That’s a sign you’ve either cracked the code of the universe,” Blake said, deadpan, “or you’ve been staring at the same page too long.”

Sophia glanced at him sidelong, he was grinning. “Hence the break.”

“Good.” His tone left no room for argument. He shifted the folders into one hand, then set the other briefly at her waist as if to steer her. “Come on.”

“Where?” They were walking across the courtyard, hand now resting on the nook just above her hip bone.

“Coffee,” he said simply, like the decision had been hers all along.

“You’re persistent.” Sophia let a small smile slip, eyes ahead as. “You don’t even ask anymore.”

“Why bother?” His mouth tugged sideways as he guided her toward the car parked at the curb. “You’d only pretend to say no.”

The touch of his hand lingered a moment longer before he let her go, opening the passenger door. She slid in without another word, though her pulse was restless.

The drive into Luzern was quiet but not empty, his presence filled the space between them. Sleeves rolled, tie stuffed into his jacket pocket, one button left open at the top. He hummed under his breath with the radio once, caught her glancing, and smirked as though he knew she wouldn’t admit it suited him.

By the time they reached the narrow street and the little coffee house glowing warm against the dusk, the air felt taut, the unspoken stretched thin. Blake killed the engine, leaned back in his seat, and finally looked at her directly.

“You didn’t ask where I’m taking you.”

“I assumed you’d tell me if it mattered.”

“It doesn’t,” he said, and his grin softened into something steadier. “Careful doesn’t win,” he murmured, at first he looked out the windshield, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. Then he glanced at her, searching. “But you already know that.”

Sophia’s breath was steady, but her chest felt tight. “You really can’t help yourself.”

He smiled, softer this time. “Not with you.”

For a moment, the silence inside the car was heavier than any words. Then he pushed his door open, coming around to hold hers, casual but deliberate, the back of his hand brushing hers as she stepped out.

The bell over the café door chimed as they went inside, the warmth wrapping around them. Blake guided her toward a table by the window, hand brushing lightly against her back again, as if he’d decided hesitation was a waste of time.

Sophia sat, fingers around the cup when it arrived, heat seeping into her palms. Blake leaned on his elbow across from her, studying her in that maddeningly relaxed way, like he had all night.

“You always look like you’re waiting for a question,” he said at last.

“And you always look like you already know the answer.”

His grin deepened. “Maybe I just like watching you think.”

Sophia blew gently across her coffee, not drinking yet. “You know,” she said, finally breaking the silence, “you don’t make it easy.”

Blake tilted his head, lazy grin flickering. “Easy isn’t my specialty.”

“I mean—” She leaned back, searching for words. “Half the time you look like you’re rehearsing a line. The other half, like you’re waiting for me to fall into it.”

“And have you?” His eyes glinted.

“Not yet,” she said, though her smile betrayed her.

Blake chuckled, low and pleased, drumming his fingers once against the table. “You sound suspicious. And you already kissed me.”

“Not suspicious,” she corrected. “Curious. You’ve got this… reputation.”

“Ah.” He sat back, stretching his shoulders against the chair. “The womanizer story.” He nodded.

“If the shoe fits.”

He leaned forward again, elbows on the table, voice softer now. “What do you want to know, Names? Numbers? A highlight reel?”

She rolled her eyes, but her laugh slipped out anyway. “God, no. Just—why?”

“Why what?”

Her gaze caught his, steady. Weighing her words. Sophia leaned back, letting the silence simmer between them.

“What?” Blake chuckled.

“I don’t do easy breezy. Don’t go for the charm, not really.”

For once, his grin faltered, just slightly. Blake tapped the rim of his cup, buying time. “I figured. After an entire year.” He smiled. “I do. On occasion. It’s nice sometimes, not giving anyone a reason to expect more.”

Sophia studied him for a beat too long, then took a sip of her coffee, the warmth covering the flutter in her chest. “You do realize that makes you sound like a cautionary tale.”

He laughed, but quieter now. “And yet, here you are.”

“I believe you’ll prove me wrong,” she said, but her smile had softened. The silence after wasn’t awkward, it was weighted, comfortable in a way that felt dangerous.




The drive began in silence, the hum of the engine and the low murmur of the radio filling the space between them. Luzern’s lights blurred in the rearview until the dark countryside took over, trees black against the fading violet sky.

Blake’s jacket was tossed carelessly in the back, his shirt collar open, the wheel loose in one hand. He looked more at ease than usual, like the performance had been set aside for now. Blake shifted gears, his knuckles brushing the space near her hand on the console, close enough to notice, not close enough to claim.

“I’m about to drown in final grading,” he said finally, voice easy. “Stacks on my desk high enough to qualify as architectural hazards.”

Sophia smirked faintly, eyes on the blur of trees. “Meanwhile, I’m polishing my thesis and pretending I don’t hate every sentence I’ve ever written.”

He shot her a sidelong glance. “So, neither of us has time.”

“And yet—” she started, but left it hanging.

Blake grinned. “And yet.” His fingers tapped the wheel in rhythm with the radio.

The quiet stretched, heavy but not uncomfortable. Sophia finally said, “We’ve only kissed once.”

His head turned just enough, brow raised. “That was memorable, though.”

“That doesn’t exactly define us,” she replied, steady, though her pulse ticked sharp.

A beat, then his grin slid wider, teasing. “What, you didn’t want us to be exclusive?”

Sophia blinked, then laughed despite herself, the sound catching in her throat. “I didn’t say that.”

“No, but you thought it,” Blake said, his tone lighter but his eyes intent on the road. His hand shifted again on the console, brushing hers this time, deliberate. “So maybe that makes us a couple?”

Sophia tilted her head, the faintest smile tugging at her lips. “You really can’t help yourself.”

“Not with you,” he echoed, softer this time.

The castle lights glowed ahead, warm against the night, when Blake finally pulled into the gravel lot. He cut the engine, but neither of them moved. The silence was thick, not awkward but charged, holding the weight of everything left unsaid.

Blake shifted slightly in his seat, one hand still on the wheel, the other dropping to the console. His fingers brushed hers, light, deliberate before settling over her hand. The contact was steady, not accidental, his thumb grazing once against her knuckle. Sophia’s breath caught. She turned her head toward him.

“You know,” he said quietly, thumb still tracing the line of her knuckle, “if we’ve only kissed once, that’s not much of a résumé for calling ourselves a couple.”

Sophia arched a brow, though her pulse was anything but steady. “So that’s what you’re after? A résumé?”

He leaned in, closer, his voice dropping into that hushed space only they seemed to occupy. “No. Just….”

Her laugh slipped out, low and sharp, before she could stop it. And then he was there — closing the last inches, without any of the hesitation of the stairwell, deeper, hungrier. His hand slid from her knuckles to her jaw, steadying her as though he’d been holding back too long.

For a breath, she let herself match him, pulse tripping, his hand slipping to the back of her neck as if he wasn’t already close enough. The rest of the world dropping out until it was just the heat of him, the weight of his hand, the steady insistence of the contact. When she finally pulled back, her breath was uneven, her forehead nearly touching his.

Blake’s grin was gone, but his eyes were bright, unreadable and clear all at once. “That’s closer to what I meant,” he murmured, his thumb brushing her cheekbone like punctuation.

Sophia swallowed. “Still not enough for a résumé.”

His laugh was low, rough around the edges. “Don’t tempt me.”

The headlights of another car swept briefly across them, cutting through the moment. Blake exhaled, let his hand fall away, and reached for the door handle. “Come on,” he said, softer now, almost reluctant. “I’ll walk you back.”

two

Sophia’s notes were spread across the table like a crime scene when Oskar appeared, balancing a paper bag that smelled suspiciously of fries.

“You’ve officially crossed into hermit territory,” he said, sitting down. “Eat something before I have to call the paramedics. And then I’ll have to explain to everyone that my friend died of academic stubbornness.”

Sophia blinked, then allowed herself the faintest smile. “At least it would be thematically consistent.”

“Here.” He shoved the bag toward her. “Eat before your brain starts feeding on itself.”

Sophia arched a brow but reached for a fry, chewing slowly. “I was working.”

“You were fossilizing,” Oskar countered and leaned back.” So… you and Blake. How’s that going?”

Sophia paused, fingers still on the edge of the bag. “That’s… direct.”

“Direct saves time,” he said lightly, though his eyes stayed steady on her.

She considered, then exhaled. “It’s… new. Strange. I’ve only ever been with Sam, you know. I thought he was—” She stopped herself, rolling the fry between her fingers before admitting, “I thought he was it. My one. The whole story, beginning to end.”

Oskar tilted his head, listening without interrupting.

“And then he wasn’t,” Sophia went on. “Instead he was in love with someone else. I don’t know.” She shrugged and popped a fry in her mouth, scrubbing the salt off her fingers.

Oskar shifted forward, dipping a fry in ketchup. “You don’t really believe that.”

She gave him a half-smile, small and dry. “Don’t I?”

“Idiot.” His voice softened. “At least Blake is mature.”

Sophia studied him, then shook her head faintly, more amused than dismissive. “You sure about that?”

Oskar smirked. “Nope. Just winging it.”

Sophia let out a dry laugh. “Careful, Oskar. Sounds like you’re rooting for the enemy.”

He grinned. “Federico would kill me. But I just want to make sure you don’t barricade yourself in this library forever.”

Sophia reached for another fry, the corner of her mouth curving, then nudged the bag of fries back toward him. “What about you, then? You always deflect back to me. How are you doing?”

“That’s broad.”

“You know what I mean.”

Oskar picked at the edge of the paper bag, not looking at her right away. “Kennedy and I have been… whatever you’d call it. Seeing each other, kind of. We go from laughing like idiots to arguing about nothing. It’s—” He broke off, searching for the word, then chuckled softly. “It’s fine. Complicated, but fine.”

“Complicated sounds about right for you.”

“Pot, kettle,” he shot back, and that made her laugh.

three

Federico’s room looked like the aftermath of a minor explosion, papers everywhere, half-drunk cups of coffee balanced on precarious stacks of books, the curtains drawn against the afternoon light. He paced in front of the desk, mumbling half-formed sentences in Italian before cutting himself off with a groan.

“I’m going to fail. I’m going to crash, burn, get exiled, and become one of those old men in Italy who play chess in the square but are terrible at it,” Federico said, dragging both hands through his hair.

“You’ll pass,” Sophia said from where she sat cross-legged on the bed, flipping through one of his textbooks. “But not if you keep dramatizing instead of studying.”

“I can’t retain anything. It’s like my brain is—” He mimed a sieve with his hands. “Empty. Hopeless.”

“Federico.” She closed the book with a snap. “If you actually sit down and prep properly, I’ll take you out this weekend.”

His head whipped around. “Out where?”

“Party. Club. Loud music, bad drinks, neon lights. A proper reward.” She waved her hand aimlessly in the air.

Federico blinked at her like she’d promised him salvation. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Sophia confirmed. “But you have to do the work first.”

A slow grin spread across his face, manic but hopeful. “Deal.”

“And Oskar’s coming.”

That wiped the grin right off. “Oskar?” The grin widened again with half a shake of his head. As if impossible.

“Yes.”

“You haven’t even asked him.”

“I don’t need to ask him.” Sophia leaned back against the wall, smug. “He’ll come.”

Federico groaned, flopping down into the desk chair. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet you’d be lost without me.”

He pointed at her, mock-serious. “If I pass, it’s because you bullied me into it. That makes you responsible for everything I do at this party.”

“Fine,” Sophia said. “But only if you study now.”

Federico groaned again, louder this time, but finally cracked open a notebook.

A knock rattled the door, and before Federico could answer, Sophia called, “It’s open.”

Oskar stepped in, a paper bag swinging from one hand. The smell of fried food filled the room immediately. “Sophia texted and I am at her beck and call apparently,” he said, dropping the bag on the desk with a heavy thud. His eyes skimmed over the scattered papers, the textbooks, Federico’s wild-eyed expression. “Christ, you look like you’ve survived a war.”

“I’m in the middle of one,” Federico said gravely.

Sophia stood, fishing out a carton of fries. “He’s convinced failure is inevitable.”

“Classic Federico,” Oskar muttered, already unwrapping his own burger.

“Know what’s not classic Oskar?” Federico clicked his pen unnecessarily while catching his friend's eye.

“What?” For a second he stopped eating, mouth stuffed with food.

“Sophia bargained your being to go clubbing this weekend.”

He shot Sophia a look. “And what’s this about me being dragged to a club?”

“You’ll survive,” she said, deadpan.

“I didn’t agree to it.”

“You didn’t disagree either,” Sophia countered, smirking as she handed him fries.

Oskar narrowed his eyes at her, but the corner of his mouth tugged up. “Unbelievable. You two are going to be the death of me.”

“Not before exams kill me first,” Federico groaned. Then, suddenly brightening, he dug into the drawer beside his desk and pulled out a slim silver flask. “But! I have a solution.”

Sophia arched her brow. “That’s not water.”

“Of course it’s not water.” Federico unscrewed the cap with a flourish. “This is twelve-year single malt. My father would weep if he knew I’d smuggled it here, but desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“You’re insane,” Oskar said flatly.

“Insane, but generous.” Federico poured three uneven splashes into mismatched cups he unearthed from his shelf. “One shot each. It can’t possibly make this worse.”

Sophia accepted hers, lifting it with the faintest smirk. “You say that now.”

“Salut,” Federico said, eyes gleaming.

They clinked their cups, Oskar still muttering under his breath about how this was a terrible idea and downed the burn in unison.

It was sharp, smoky, settling warm in Sophia’s chest. She let out a slow breath, watching Federico grimace and Oskar shake his head like he’d been tricked.

“One shot,” Sophia reminded them.

“Of course,” Federico said, already topping up his own cup.

four

The morning was pale and cool, the kind of spring day that promised warmth later but hadn’t quite reached it yet. Helen’s balcony overlooked the expanding woods. A small table stood between them, crowded with croissants, butter, a chipped pot of coffee, and two mugs steaming in the soft air.

Helen sat curled in her chair, cardigan slipping off one shoulder, gesturing with her croissant.

“It’s different this time,” she said, a little sheepish but glowing all the same. “Better, actually. Curtis and I… we’re not pretending anymore. Less chase, less ego. We’ve been—” she gave a quick laugh, “—getting along better than when we were together the first time.”

Sophia cut her croissant neatly, eyes down. “That sounds good.”

“It is.” Helen sighed, softening. “Feels right in a way it didn’t before.” She leaned forward then, narrowing her eyes. “And you?”

Sophia glanced up. “Me?”

“With Blake,” Helen pressed, too casual to be casual.

Sophia hesitated just a second too long. “We’ve both been busy. Exams. Grading. Not much time for anything else.”

“That wasn’t the question,” Helen said, smile tugging at her mouth.

Sophia looked at her, steady but quieter now. “We’re good. And at the same time I don’t.” she stopped, then shook her head faintly, lips curving like she was annoyed at herself. “We talked about it. I just don’t want to expect anything. Not really.”

Helen leaned back, victorious, but didn’t gloat. She only smiled, softer this time, as though she’d been waiting for her friend to admit it out loud. “Finally. A real answer.”

Sophia smirked despite herself, taking a sip of coffee. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

Helen raised her mug in mock solemnity. “Never. But also—completely.”

Sophia’s laugh slipped out as she tapped her knife lightly against her plate, as though weighing her words. “But you know his reputation.”

Helen’s brows arched. “You mean—”

“I don’t need the details,” Sophia cut in gently. “Just… I know.”

Helen studied her, lips pursed like she wanted to argue, but then she only let out a sigh and leaned back, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Well. You don’t exactly hand out easy answers either.”

Sophia smirked faintly, lifting her coffee. “Maybe we deserve each other, then.”

Helen shook her head, grinning despite herself. “Dangerous pair.” Helen tore off another piece of croissant, chewing thoughtfully as she studied Sophia. “You say you know his reputation, and yet here you are. Why?”

Sophia sipped her coffee, buying herself a moment. The mug was warm in her hands, grounding. “He’s… persistent. And for no good reason I can think of.” A pause, then the faintest smile. “I just—find him amusing. Interesting.”

Helen tilted her head, watching her closely, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Persistent, amusing, interesting… you realize that’s practically a love letter coming from you, right?”

Sophia groaned softly. “You make it sound like more than it is.”

“That’s because you make it sound like less than it is,” Helen shot back, leaning forward on her elbows. “You never talk about anyone like this. Ever. Which is why I know it’s not nothing.”

Sophia set the mug down, careful not to make it look like she was stalling. “It’s nothing dramatic. He’s persistent. He’s amusing. Interesting. That’s it.”

Helen’s brows rose. “That’s it?” She leaned back, shaking her head. “You know, when we were kids, he used to climb out the window just to race me before school. Every single morning. Rain, snow, didn’t matter. He had to win, even if the prize was nothing.”

Sophia’s lips curved faintly. “Sounds about right.”

“Mm. But here’s the thing—” Helen tipped her chin at her. “He doesn’t keep that up with most people. He gets bored. Drops it. Finds a new game. The fact that he hasn’t with you?” She gave Sophia a knowing look. “That says something.”

Sophia let the words hang for a moment, then shook her head, the smile slipping into something self-effacing. “You make it sound like more than it is.”

Helen didn’t push further this time. She only sighed, though her eyes stayed warm. “Well, if he screws it up, I’ll kill him. He’s my brother, but I’ll still do it.”

Sophia smiled despite herself, the smile small and true. “Noted.”

Curtis appeared in the doorway with his usual casual timing, hair still damp from a shower, shirt sleeves rolled haphazardly to his elbows. “I could smell the croissants from the street,” he said, snagging one from the basket before Helen could protest. “Morning.”

Helen rolled her eyes but nudged the coffee pot toward him. “You live too well off our hospitality.”

Curtis dropped into the empty chair beside them, biting into the pastry. “Mm. Worth it.” He glanced between the two women, eyes narrowing slightly. “What did I interrupt?”

“Your best friend’s reputation,” Helen said dryly, sipping her coffee.

Curtis huffed a laugh. “Which one?”

“Your other best friend,” Helen clarified, leaning back in her chair. “The one Sophia is apparently very tolerant of.”

Curtis arched a brow, amused, and turned to Sophia. “So he’s behaving, then?”

Sophia held her mug a little tighter. “More or less.”

Curtis grinned. “That’s new.” Curtis tore off another bite of croissant, chewing thoughtfully. “So tell me,” he said once he’d swallowed, “why the hell did it take you so long to let him have a shoe in the door?”

Sophia didn’t flinch, didn’t look defensive. “The last dude I was with fell out of love with me. And into it with someone else.”

Helen’s eyes sharpened. “That sounds an awful lot like he cheated.”

“Perhaps,” Sophia said, almost lightly. “But it doesn’t sound as nice.”

Helen leaned forward. “So he broke your heart?”

“A hundred percent.” Sophia said it flat, unbothered, as if it were no more dramatic than the weather. She took another sip of her coffee.

Curtis studied her for a moment, brow furrowed despite the crooked smile on his face. “And that’s why it took so long? That’s the only reason?”

Sophia let the silence stretch before answering. “That. And Federico.”

Helen scoffed, setting her cup down with a soft clink. “Excuses. You were actually scared.”

Sophia tilted her head, conceding with a faint, almost amused smile. “Maybe.”

Helen sighed, leaning back in her chair, but there was no judgment in her eyes, only recognition.

Curtis leaned his elbows on the table, grinning now. “Well, whatever it was, it looks like the shoe’s in the damn door.”

Sophia tilted her head, conceding with the faintest smile. “Maybe.”

Helen arched a brow, waiting for her to add more, but Sophia only reached for another croissant, tearing off a corner like the matter was closed.

Curtis let out a low laugh. “God the two of you. One refuses to say what she feels, the other fills every silence just to hear the echo.”

Helen swatted his arm. “You’re not any better.”

“Sure I am.” Curtis leaned back in his chair, grinning. “I provide comic relief. It’s a noble service.”

Sophia shook her head, the corner of her mouth twitching. “If that’s your job description, you’re underpaid.”

“See?” Curtis pointed at her with the half-eaten pastry. “She gets it.”

Helen groaned, but she was laughing, and the sharpness of a moment ago softened into something easier. “Fine, you win. But next weekend you’re both cooking dinner at mine, and I’m picking the wine.”

Sophia raised her mug. “Deal.”

Curtis smirked. “As long as I don’t have to do dishes.”

“Absolutely you do,” Helen shot back, already reaching for another croissant.

five

The path curved along the edge of the woods, damp with last night’s rain. Sophia’s breath was steady, music pulsing low in her ears. She slowed just enough to push a loose strand of hair back when movement blurred in her periphery.

Blake stepped out from behind a tree with a grin far too pleased with itself.

Sophia jolted, heart hammering. “Jesus Christ!” She yanked one earbud out and, without thinking, hurled it at his chest. It bounced off harmlessly. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Blake doubled over laughing, catching his breath between words. “That—” he wheezed, “was worth every second.”

Her glare could’ve cut through stone. “I thought I was about to end up in a horror movie.”

“Relax,” he said, still grinning, hands raised in mock surrender. “It was supposed to be a surprise. That’s why I didn’t answer your text.”

“A surprise? You nearly gave me a coronary.”

He stepped closer, eyes flicking over her expression, storm-cloud sharp. “Didn’t think you’d act like I’d come at you with a chainsaw.”

“Next time, I might,” she shot back, breath still uneven.

Blake’s grin softened just enough, amused and maybe a little intrigued at the flash of rawness he hadn’t seen from her before. “Noted.”

Sophia shoved her remaining earbud into her pocket, muttering under her breath as they continued down the path. Blake only chuckled, the sound low and unbothered, like he’d gotten exactly what he wanted.

Blake glanced sideways, grin tugging at his mouth. “You know,” he said, tone lighter now, “it’s… refreshing. Seeing this side of you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Which side? The one plotting your untimely death?”

“Heard you scared easily but had to confirm.”

Sophia’s laugh was short, incredulous. “And you believe him?”

“Depends.” His tone dipped, softer now, the grin still there but edged with curiosity. “Is he wrong?”

She let the silence hang, her breath steady, her eyes fixed on the path ahead. “Curtis should find a new hobby.”

Blake chuckled, low and pleased. “That’s not a no.”

“You and Curtis are tattletales, the both of you.”

Blake matched her pace with irritating ease. “Not tattling. Just… trading notes.”

She shot him a look. “On me?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted without shame. His grin was infuriatingly unbothered. “He says you downplay everything. That you’d rather make a joke than admit you care.”

“Tattletales” she muttered, tugging her ponytail tighter.

“Not gossip,” he said again, sidelong glance catching her face. “Research.”

Sophia scoffed but couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped out this time.

Blake only grinned wider. “Refreshing,” he said again, under his breath. Blake slowed just enough as the castle roofs came into view through the trees, his grin still lingering. “You know, you could always explain it better over dinner.”

Sophia shot him a sidelong glance, arching a brow. “Dinner?”

He shrugged, as if it were obvious. “Less gossip, more firsthand clarification.”

She smirked faintly, catching her breath. “Not tonight. I’m going out with Federico and Oskar.”

Blake hummed, like he’d already known the answer. “Tomorrow then.”

Sophia laughed under her breath, shaking her head. “Persistent.”

“Dinner,” he repeated, this time firmer, though there was amusement laced through it. “At my place. We’ll cook. You can even pretend you’re not terrified of admitting things.”

She gave him a look, but her lips curved despite herself. “Fine. Tomorrow.”

Blake’s grin widened, satisfied. “Good.” He reached ahead to push open the gate for her as they stepped back into the castle grounds. “Don’t be late.”

six

The bass thumped through the floor before they even made it inside. Federico was waiting at the entrance, impossibly polished in a shirt too crisp for a student club, grinning like he owned the place.

“There you are,” he declared, sweeping Sophia into a quick hug before turning on Oskar. “And you! Finally out of the cave. I should buy champagne just to mark the occasion.”

Oskar muttered something about regretting this already, but Federico only laughed, clapping him on the shoulder.

Inside, the lights strobed in dizzy patterns, and Federico wasted no time weaving them toward the bar. “First round’s on me,” he said, signaling the bartender like he was at a five-star hotel. “Nothing cheap.”

Sophia leaned on the counter, raising a brow. “You made it sound like we were here to dance, not audition for a champagne commercial.”

Federico winked. “Both. Life’s too short not to.”

When the drinks arrived, he held his glass aloft, eyes gleaming. “To us the only tolerable people in this school.”

Sophia smirked, clinking her glass lightly against his. Oskar hesitated, then joined in with a quiet “cheers.”

They found a corner table, Federico already sketching out the night like he usually did a general with battle plans, dance floor, rooftop, maybe another bar after. Oskar slouched into his chair, sipping his drink with the air of someone resigned to survival.

Sophia just watched them both, amused. “You’ve turned this into an expedition.”

“Of course I have,” Federico said, flashing her a grin. “When else do I get both of you under one roof, willingly?”

Oskar gave Sophia a sidelong look. “You promised.”

“I did,” she said simply, hiding her smile behind her glass.

Federico leaned forward, dramatic and triumphant. “Exactly. And tonight, my friends, we are going to make memories worth regretting.”

The second round came in the form of shots, gold liquid lined up like soldiers. Federico slid one toward Sophia with a flourish. “One. Just one.”

Sophia eyed him, then the glass. “Famous last words.”

“Exactly,” he said, grinning. “Now drink.”

She tipped it back, the heat searing her throat, and winced before laughing under her breath. Federico cheered like she’d won a race. Oskar shook his head but followed suit, grimacing as if he’d swallowed battery acid.

A few songs later, Federico had dragged them both onto the dance floor, moving with reckless ease, his shirt already untucked. Sophia let herself laugh, tipsy warmth loosening the edges of her composure. Even Oskar cracked a smile when Federico tried to spin him like a partner.

By the third round, they’d collapsed back into their corner, hair damp, cheeks flushed. Federico sprawled against the booth, arm slung along the backrest behind Sophia, glass tilting in his other hand.

“You know,” he said, his grin slipping into something softer, “this, right here. The three of us. That’s what matters. Everything else—” he waved vaguely at the crowd, the music, the world “—noise.”

Sophia glanced at him sidelong, catching the flicker of something raw beneath the performance.

Oskar leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “You’re drunk.”

“True.” Federico’s grin returned, sharp again. “But doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

Sophia let the words settle, the noise of the club swelling around them. For a moment, the shot still humming in her blood, she felt the truth in what he’d said, the strange safety of their little trio, flawed as it was.

Then Federico straightened. “Alright. Next stop— the rooftop. They’ve got better cocktails.”

Sophia groaned, laughing despite herself.

“Ahh-ahh,” Federico said, offering her his hand with mock formality, “no sour faces. A promise is a promise.” Sophia could feel Oskar’s eyes burning a hole in the back of her head. ”No regrets until we are puking tomorrow.”





The hallway was quiet, Sophia slowed when she noticed the thin strip of light beneath one of the office doors. She hesitated, then knocked lightly before nudging it open.

Blake was hunched at his desk, tie gone, shirt sleeves rolled, red pen in hand. He blinked at her, then at the clock on the wall, sighing. “Too late to still be doing this, isn’t it?”

Sophia leaned against the doorframe, silk skirt catching the glow. “Definitely.”

He set the pen down, mouth curving. “So, you wanted to see me?” The warmth in his grin disarmed her more than she wanted to admit. He stood, stretching slightly before crossing the room. His eyes caught on her skirt, the shimmer of fabric.

“You look nice,” he said, and as if to underline it, his fingers brushed the silk briefly, before falling back to his side. “Did you have fun?”

Sophia tilted her head, lips curving faintly. “Fun enough.”

“Mm,” Blake murmured, studying her, the way her cheeks were still a little flushed, her steps just loose enough to give her away. He didn’t press closer, though, only lingered near. “Federico’s doing, I assume.”

“Of course.” Her voice was calm, but her eyes glinted with amusement.

He chuckled low. “Then I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t let him drag you into trouble.”

“Who says he didn’t?” she countered, leaning against the edge of his desk now.

That earned her a real smile, softer this time. He folded his arms, leaning against the back of the chair he’d abandoned. “Still standing, so I’ll take it.”

For a moment, silence stretched between them, not awkward, charged, warm. Blake’s gaze flicked to her face, then away, as if reminding himself not to push further.

“Go on,” he said gently, nodding toward the door. “Before I forget I’m supposed to be the responsible one.”

Sophia drew in a steadying breath. “No nightcap?” The words hung there, more naked than she meant, but she didn’t take them back.

Blake stopped. For a second, he almost smiled, but the curve of it was faint, pained. “Good idea, wrong moment I’m afraid,” he said quietly. Her chest tightened. She nodded once. “Goodnight, Sophia.” Sophia smirked faintly, pushing off the desk.

“Goodnight, Blake.” His laugh followed her out, low and quiet.

seven

Blake’s kitchen smelled of garlic and onions, the sizzle of olive oil cutting through the quiet. He had rolled his sleeves up, knife moving quick and sure as he diced, humming under his breath. The same line of melody, looping.

Sophia poured the wine, listening. “You always hum that. Which song is it?”

He glanced up, brow arched, grin tugging at his mouth. “Take a guess.”

“I’d lose,” she said simply, handing him a glass.

He smirked, taking it. “Fair. It’s Coltrane. My fallback.”

“Of course it is.” She sipped, letting the warmth linger.

Blake paused in his chopping, rolling the stem of the glass between his fingers. “My grandfather used to play it all the time. Old record player in the living room, scratches and everything. Guess it stuck.”

Sophia tilted her head, studying him. “Didn’t peg you for sentimental.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” he said dryly, but the corner of his mouth softened before he went back to the onions.

The kitchen felt easy, ordinary, his jacket hung over the back of a chair, the counters cluttered with half-chopped vegetables and herbs, the hum of the record player faint in the other room. She slipped past him to wash her hands, sleeves pushed up, and for a moment it almost felt like something practiced, like they’d done this before.

She dried her hands slowly, a smile flickering as she leaned against the counter, wine glass in hand. “I’ve been thinking.”

Blake glanced over, knife stilling. “About what?”

“That I should stay the night.”

The knife went down. He hummed, not surprised so much as amused, and set his own glass on the counter. He closed the distance in three steps, bracing one hand beside her hip on the countertop.

“Dinner can wait,” he murmured, voice low, eyes steady on hers. “I’ve been very patient… to be impatient.” He leaned in, pressing once, deliberate but measured, a kiss testing the air between them.

Sophia’s smile deepened against the closeness. “You have.”

The first brush was measured, a line crossed carefully. But when she didn’t move away, when she tilted up just slightly as though to meet him halfway, something in him gave. His hand slipped from the counter to her hip, anchoring her, while the other came up to cup the back of her neck.

The kiss deepened, unhurried but certain, tasting faintly of wine. Sophia’s glass tipped dangerously in her hand, and she set it blindly onto the counter without breaking away.

Blake’s thumb traced against her jaw. She let out the smallest laugh against his mouth, surprised at herself, surprised at him. His answering grin curved between kisses, rougher now, less practiced charm and more want.

The record spun on in the other room, Coltrane weaving into the air, and the onions on the stove hissed, almost forgotten.

eight

Blake and Sophia had arrived early at the garden party. He walked with her along the edge of the lawn, his hand brushing her back in that steady, unthinking way he’d grown used to. “New York for July,” he said, like a passing remark, though his glance at her carried more weight. “Geneva in August. You should come.”

Sophia tilted her head, unreadable. “Should I?”

“Unless you’re planning to spend your summer alphabetizing your father’s wine cellar.” His grin was crooked, but there was something steady underneath it. “I’d rather you didn’t vanish for three months.”

She smirked faintly, letting him have the last word as they reached the long table where the others were already gathered.

Helen waved them down immediately, her bracelets catching the lantern light. “About time,” she teased. “We were taking bets on whether you’d show up late just to be dramatic.”

“Unfounded slander,” Blake replied, pulling out a chair for Sophia before sitting beside her.

Federico leaned across the table, champagne glass in hand. “I already told Sophia, if she disappears this summer, I’ll track her down. Lake Como, Geneva, Timbuktu. Doesn’t matter.” His grin was playful, but it edged with something more protective. “You don’t get rid of me that easily.”

Sophia rolled her eyes, but her smile softened. “Noted.”

Oskar, more relaxed than she’d seen him in weeks, raised his glass. “Sweden. That’s my summer. But don’t be strangers. You both have standing invitations. No excuses.”

“We’ll come,” Sophia said without hesitation.

“Good.” Oskar nodded once, satisfied.

Helen leaned in, chin propped in her hand, eyes glittering. “And will you be visiting New York?” The question was directed at Sophia, tone sing-song, but her gaze flicked knowingly between her and Blake.

“Helen,” Blake warned mildly, though his grin betrayed him.

Sophia sipped her champagne, letting the pause stretch. “Lake Como first. Family tradition.” She let her eyes flit to Federico. “And he’ll probably drop in to cause trouble.”

Federico lifted his glass in a mock-toast. “You’re welcome in advance.”

“And then?” Helen pressed.

Sophia smiled, evasive but not cold. “We’ll see.”

Curtis reached over to nudge Helen’s arm. “Leave her be. Not everyone has to file travel reports.”

Helen huffed, though her grin never slipped. “Fine. But if you end up in Geneva, Sophia, I expect postcards.”

The table laughed, glasses clinked, and for a moment it was all easy, the kind of evening that felt suspended, as if the night might never end.

Blake’s hand found hers under the table, a quiet anchor, his thumb brushing lightly along her knuckles. He didn’t look at her when he did it, just carried on listening to Curtis argue with Oskar about Swedish beer versus Swiss, as though this touch was simply the most natural thing in the world.

Complete

Last edited by Mimira (14/09/2025 at 19:22)

Contest is NOW Closed!

Banners and Results will come within 24 Hours!!!

This is it…
Our year in Summerville Castle has come to an end — and what a year it has been! Drama, friendships, gossip, and even a touch of romance have filled these halls and pages.

With the decision that Summerville will remain open for the future, I sincerely hope to see your wonderful characters return one day and continue their journeys.

I had such a blast watching your stories unfold, seeing how friendships grew, how relationships blossomed, and how every twist of fate shaped your unique characters.

I know real life is always demanding, and that makes me even more grateful for every moment you took to bring your creativity here. To me, each of you is a winner in your own special way. Thank you for making Summerville Castle come alive this year.

AJ Sallow

Her story began with heartbreak, tears, and doubts about returning to Summerville. But luckily, AJ did come back... not breaking down, but instead breaking down her walls as she opened up to Kennedy, Leah, and Marijke. The quiet girl found herself unexpectedly in the spotlight. Though she struggled at first, she bloomed as the months passed.
She discovered a true friend in Kennedy and Leah (disaster date included!) and, most importantly, found new love in Marijke. Loyal as ever, AJ never left Oskar's side and even tried to mend his broken friendship with Dejan... a near-impossible task, but one she faced with her trademark stubbornness and care.
It's a shame we didn't get to see the very end of her story… but knowing AJ — and knowing you — I'm certain it would have been a happy one.

Mila Galanis

Mila did not only take me by surprise... she most definitely surprised Leon too. I was delighted to see you choosing him, and what can I say, it turned out to be the perfect decision in the end. From their talks on psychology and quiet observations, to the subtle flirts and touches, and finally their kiss… your story carried all the shades of tension and tenderness.
Her friendships with Eliza and Helen brought such depth to her time in Summerville, and her bond with Joshua felt especially powerful... the mentor who recognised that Mila was walking a path not chosen by herself, but laid out for her.
She may have found love with Leon in Summerville, but happiness remained elusive. And though her decision to leave was not an easy one, it was perhaps the first true choice Mila made for herself. That's what made her journey so striking — and so unforgettable.

Sophia von Adelberg

Oh, Sophia… always so calm, so composed... and yet the cracks showed when Blake pushed and pried a little deeper. It was a joy to see glimpses of her real smile, the one she tried so hard to keep hidden behind her carefully built façade.
Her friendships with Federico, Oskar, and Helen were a delight to watch, each bringing out a different side of her. And then, of course, there was Blake... the risk she didn't think she would ever take. I know she has her reasons to worry, to doubt, to hold back… but in the end, Blake was worth it. For once, she allowed herself to choose the risk... and that made her journey all the more unforgettable.

Thank you again. I hope to see all of you again in my next contest one day... either another season of Summerville or something different.

Thank you for a great contest - I really enjoyed every minute of it!
Mila was a long time coming story, and I loved the fact I finally got to explore her, especially with Leon. Loved the dynamic, much more than I initially expected!

Thanks for hosting, and for amazing banners!