12. moonlight

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t w e l v e
"Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit." - Virgil, Aeneid, Book 1, Line 203

MOONLIGHT

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It was four in the morning when William finally had enough of the tossing and turning he'd been doing in his bed since eleven p.m. Pushing the cream colored sheets off of his body, he slid off the bed with the grace of a bird flapping its wings if it were stuck in cement-that is, not very graceful. He stumbled over his backpack in the darkness, and then he stubbed his toe on the corner of his bed post.

He hissed in pain, then glared at his bed before slipping on a pair of shoes and heading out of his dorm room. It was still dark out, the night sky endless. A soft, milky glow shone through the windows that spanned the entire stone wall. Mixed together with the golden hue of the gas lanterns on the wall, it had an awfully eerie, yet calm effect.

His feet padded softly against the floor, and William relished in this peaceful moment. He loved being the only one awake. There was something about the quietness, the stillness, that came from early mornings that offered the young boy a moment of peace.

He strolled mindlessly through the corridors, wandering without any true purpose. He doubted any one else would be walking the hallways this early in the morning-no one sane at least.

Rounding the corner, William eyed the wide, open entrance leading to the courtyard. Pillars extended just a bit further outside, yet the floor broke off into a gravel path, that soon ended in a tuft of grass. He glanced upwards, peering at the black tranquility that was the night sky. Stars scattered the blackness like cities would on a map written on an old piece of parchment.

It was beautiful; it was peaceful.

William sat on the wooden bench, which lay directly underneath a large oak tree, the old wood of the bench creaking beneath him as he sat. The dark foliage above him offered a second shadow for the night, the moon's light filtering through the clouds and landing in the grass.

He sat there silently for what felt like forever; he wished he could. His moment of peace and silence was ruined by the soft pad of another set of footsteps rounding the corner.

There, in all his golden glory, stood Lucien Harding.

It took Lucien a moment to recognize that there was in fact another person in the courtyard as he entered the small area, but when he did, he narrowed his eyes and then pursed his lips together. "Of course I run into you," he muttered.

William simply grinned as the sky slowly turned into a softer navy blue. "Come," he said, motioning Lucien forward with the crook of his finger. "Sit down, golden boy."

Lucien grumbled, his words too quiet and mixed together for him to understand what he was saying, though nonetheless he strolled forward, hands stuffed into his pockets. His golden strands of hair were messy, as if Lucien had just woken up a few minutes ago. He still had sleep marks on his face.

William fought the urge to say something about it; it was cute. Instead, he settled for questioning him. "I don't reckon you'll tell me why you're outside at four in the morning, will you?"

"It's five," he corrected as he stared up at the sky, "and I doubt you'll tell me either."

He shrugged. "I couldn't sleep, you?"

"What a simple answer," he mumbled. "I guess I couldn't sleep either."

William didn't correct him on that, even though it did appear he'd just been sleeping. It wasn't any of his business why Lucien Harding strolled the corridors at five in the morning when he could be sleeping.

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