Perfect Matches - A Black Butler (Weston College) Love Story

The Spark Ignites

Violet's POV 

A week of classes had passed. I was in the Swan Gazebo, trying to relax. The other prefects and fags were hanging around. Bluer and Jenkinson were discussing different Latin phrases. I smirked to myself. While Jenkinson was focusing on her translations, Bluer stared at her. It seemed like he was love struck. She didn't even notice. Clayton, Bluer's fag, was doing the same, as Cecily Johnson, Jenkinson's fag, was reading her book.

Greenhill and Bellingham were discussing their badminton skills. "I bet I have better 'I formation' than you," Bellingham said cockily. Greenhill laughed. "We'll see about that." Devin Jones, Bellingham's fag, was arguing with Edward Midford.

Redmond was watching Ainsworth as she casually recited her poetry. Her fag, Rosemarie Smith, was smiling the whole time. Redmond's fag, Joanne Harcourt, just stared at Rosemarie with a huge blush on his face.

I turned around to look for Cheslock, but he was busy chatting with Chantel Leclair, Ignasia's fag. I smirked, but Cheslock saw me.

"Oi, Violet. What're you smirking at?" He was smirking himself. I just shook my head and waved him off, my smirk remaining on my face. I heard Chantel laugh. 

I looked around for Ignasia. She was sitting in a corner, drawing in peace. That is, until I came in.

"Ignasia?" She looked up at me and put a small smile on her face. "Vio- I mean, Gregory. Hello."

I smiled faintly as I peeked at her drawing. It was beautiful. A small bird was on the paper. Zentangle designs were inside of it, along with pops of color. My eyes couldn't tear themselves off the paper.

"My eyes have been blessed," I said. She chuckled a bit and motioned for me to sit down beside her. I did so. We stayed silent for a bit. She looked around the gazebo and then back at her drawing. I thought I might start a conversation.

"So . . . how are your classes?" She looked at me shyly. "They're fine," she said quietly. I almost couldn't hear her.

We looked around quietly for what seemed like hours. I was about to ask her another question, one about drawing, hoping we could have an amazing conversation. 

"What do you-"I started. Jenkinson rushed over, suddenly, and stopped in front of Ignasia. "Ignasia, can you help me with my book report? I wanted to see if you had any design ideas." Ignasia nodded. "Of course."

She turned to face me, but her eyes wouldn't meet mine. "Uh . . . I need to go help Jenkinson. I . . .  I hope we can continue this conversation soon," she said. Her voice was so soft, and yet there was a loud melody to it that I wanted to hear forever. She got up and walked away from me and followed Jenkinson.

I looked at the ceiling. 'Really? How are your classes? You blew it. You fucking blew it, Gregory!' I was pissed at myself. I pulled my hood down lower, leaving everything from my nose down exposed. I looked down to see two fingers snapping in front of my face. It was Bluer.

"She left you, too?" He asked. I only nodded. He chuckled. "I guess we just need some help with our social skills now, don't we?" I smiled faintly and nodded. "I suppose so."

 He opened up his book and started reading next to me, occasionally looking up to spot Jenkinson walking to the library with Ignasia, as I watched Ignasia.

I came to realize that whenever I was around Ignasia, I got this . . . this strange feeling. It was if my numb heart could feel again when I was around her.  

The spark inside my heart has ignited.