Romeo
The alarm's relentless blaring jolted me out of my thoughts. Truth was, I'd been awake since 3 a.m., haunted by a nightmare that seemed to play on loop. A battlefield lit by an inferno stretched before me. The crumbling edges of a collapsing castle loomed in the distance. And then she appeared: a faceless young woman in a scarlet gown.
Every night it's the same—her hand joining mine, glowing with an ethereal light that pushes back the flames, only for a sorrowful voice to murmur: "You shall love, and in love, find death."
As always, I woke in confusion, drenched in sweat and with an ache lodged somewhere between my chest and shoulder. Shrugging off the lingering unease, I got out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom.
"I am Romeo Draekhaven," I muttered at the mirror, splashing cold water onto my face. The name felt heavier than it had any right to. Maybe it was because of the Draekhaven legacy—or maybe it was something else.
At 6'2, with sun-kissed skin, storm-grey eyes, and perpetually disobedient brown curls, I carried the aura of someone who didn't care much. And largely, I didn't. The whispered envy from guys, the longing gazes from girls—none of it fazed me. At the end of the day, I liked my space, and everyone seemed happy to leave me to it. Everyone except Venecia Eryndor, even if she had no idea.
Our families were sworn enemies; I was drilled from childhood to keep my distance, to see her not as a person, but as a symbol of everything the Draekhavens despised. Yet, Venecia was different from what I'd been taught to expect—smart, unapologetically poised, and effortlessly intriguing.
It's annoying, really. I would clench my jaw, trying to deny the strange feeling of being drawn to her, a feeling I violently rejected.
"Romeo, get down here! Breakfast is waiting," Mom hollered from downstairs, snapping me from my brooding.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," I shouted back, reluctantly grabbing the keys to my bike before trudging downstairs.
"Why do you look like you've barely slept? Don't think you can laze around just because your father isn't home to watch over you," Mom quipped, narrowing her eyes at me.
I smirked. "Geez, woman. You're more terrifying than Dad."
"Flattery gets you nowhere. Now eat something before school," she said, setting a plate down in front of me.
Despite the banter, she wasn't wrong. If Dad were here, I'd probably be mid-lecture about "heirs to the Draekhaven name" and "upholding tradition" before I made it out the door. I remember one specific lecture about how the Eryndor's were not to be trusted, that they had betrayed our family long ago, and that I was to never forget it.
The ride to school was a welcome relief—a rush of wind, freedom from the stifling expectations at home, and a chance to clear my thoughts. By the time I pulled into the school lot, Damien was already leaning against the fence, grinning like the idiot he was.
"Took you long enough. I was starting to wonder if you'd died," he teased.
"Yeah? Keep dreaming, man," I said, parking the bike and shouldering my bag. "Let's go."
I hadn't planned on making an entrance when we reached the classroom, but the moment I opened the door, I realized I'd unintentionally done just that. The hum of chatter dropped into silence, heads swiveling my way.
All except hers.
Venecia Eryndor was seated at her desk, effortlessly answering a question thrown her way. Her voice, steady and precise, carried across the room with that air of quiet authority she always seemed to possess.
As soon as the teacher nodded in approval and she finished her response, her hazel eyes flicked towards me.
And then it happened.
A burning sensation ignited beneath the skin of my left shoulder, sharp but not quite painful, demanding my attention. My hand flew to the mark reflexively, pressing through the fabric of my blazer as if that might quell the strange sensation.
Across the room, Venecia flinched. Her hand moved almost simultaneously, clutching her right shoulder like she'd felt something too. Her face betrayed no emotion other than the faintest flicker of confusion, but it was enough to make my breath hitch.
What the hell was that?
Jaw clenched, I broke the connection between our gazes and stalked to my seat, throwing myself into it with more force than necessary. For a moment, I couldn't hear the teacher's words or the whispers of my classmates. All I could think about was the burning sensation beneath my shoulder and the odd synchronicity of it all.
Venecia, the star-shaped mark, and that damn burning feeling... none of it made sense.
Later during P.E.
If I was being honest, I only half paid attention in most classes, but P.E. had its moments. It was supposed to be a relief—a break from academics—but as the session dragged on, that lingering burn returned, more insistent this time.
I shrugged out of my shirt, pulling on my sports gear, and as I caught my reflection in a passing window, my eyes fell on the faint outline of the star etched into my skin. It felt warm, like a brand, and the skin around it tingled slightly.
"What's got you looking so intense?" Damien asked, tossing me a ball.
"Nothing. Just tired, I guess," I muttered, shaking my head.
But it wasn't nothing. Even across the field, Venecia moved in my peripheral vision like a constant, my shoulder pulsing faintly whenever she was near. I couldn't make sense of it. And it didn't make sense that, even oblivious to me, she had the kind of presence you couldn't look away from.
I caught the ball, gripping it tightly as though the pressure against my hands might distract me from the steady thrum beneath my skin. Coach's whistle pierced the air, snapping me out of my thoughts.
"Focus, Draekhaven. Let's see if you're as good on the field as you are in class!"
Great. I rolled my eyes and jogged toward the starting line for the relay drill. Damien lined up beside me, nudging my ribs. "Don't screw this up. I've got a bet riding on you."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I retorted, setting my stance.
As soon as the whistle blew, my body sprang into action, the burn in my shoulder almost fading into the adrenaline pumping through my veins. The sun bore down, sweat dripping down my temples, but none of it felt as heavy as the unexplained weight in my chest.
I passed the baton smoothly to Damien and slowed to a jog, catching my breath on the sidelines. My eyes strayed, against my better judgment, to where Venecia was paired with one of the girls on her team for a drill. Her movements were sharp and precise, competitive yet graceful.
Damien handed me a water bottle, his brows furrowed. "What are you staring at?"
"Nothing," I lied, taking a swig of water.
But it wasn't nothing. Venecia twisted to catch a ball, her form poised in perfect concentration, and for a split second, her head turned in my direction. Her gaze didn't land on me, but that strange pulse in my shoulder ignited like a tiny spark. I clenched my fists, trying to mask my discomfort, but Damien noticed anyway.
"Alright, what's going on?" he asked, lowering his voice. "You're acting weird. You're never weird."
"Just leave it," I said sharply, taking another swig from the bottle and turning away.
The rest of the session blurred. By the time we were dismissed, the mark had cooled down, leaving me with more questions and no answers.
Later, as I unlocked my bike, I replayed the moments in my mind—the burn, the way it always seemed stronger when she was near, and the fact that I couldn't explain it. It wasn't a coincidence, and deep down, I knew that much.
The mystery irritated me, but the intrigue was worse. Venecia Eryndor wasn't someone I was supposed to notice, and yet it felt like the universe had a different idea.
Gripping the handlebars tightly, I sped out of the parking lot, determined to lose the thoughts rattling around in my head. But no matter how fast I rode, I couldn't outrun the fact that, somehow, she was always there—in my dreams, in my reality, and now, beneath my very skin.
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Damien
There was something off about Romeo today—scratch that, there had been something off about him for weeks. I wasn't the kind of guy who meddled too much, but Romeo Draekhaven didn't do weird. He was the guy who kept his cool no matter what, the guy who made the rest of us look like we were trying too hard. So, when I caught him staring at Venecia Eryndor like she'd single-handedly knocked him off balance during P.E., I knew I wasn't imagining things.
Romeo didn't crush on people. Period. And if he had feelings for Venecia, it was the most messed-up choice he could've made, considering their families' history. It wasn't my problem—except, of course, when it interfered with our routine. Which it totally had.
"Alright, spill," I said as I jogged to catch up with him in the parking lot. He was fumbling with the lock on his bike, looking ten shades of distracted. "Whatever it is, you've been acting like a moody teenager all day. Scratch that, all week."
He shot me a sharp look, clearly not in the mood. "Damien, now's not the time."
"Wrong, bud. Now is the perfect time. You just almost screwed up an easy relay because you were staring at the Eryndor girl like she's a math problem you can't solve. Not like you've ever struggled with math." I crossed my arms, blocking his exit. "Come on, out with it. What's the deal with you and her?"
His jaw tensed as he jammed his key into the lock with more force than necessary. "There's no deal."
"Romeo. I've known you since you were four. You think I'm buying that?"
For a second, I thought he'd just ride off, leaving me in the dust. But instead, he paused, let out a frustrated sigh, and leaned his weight against his bike. His stormy grey eyes met mine, and there was something in them I didn't see often—hesitation.
"It's not like that," he muttered finally.
I raised an eyebrow. "Not like what? You staring at Venecia like the universe is writing some tragic romance script just for you? Seriously, man, what is it?"
Romeo hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck like he wasn't sure how to put it into words. That's when I knew it was big—Romeo wasn't one for being speechless.
"There's... this thing," he started, lowering his voice so no one else could overhear. "I don't know how to explain it. But every time she's near me, it feels like—like something's happening. Like a burn beneath my shoulder. And I'm pretty damn sure it's connected to her because it never happens otherwise."
I stared at him, waiting for the punchline. When it didn't come, I burst into laughter. "Dude, you've been reading too much sci-fi or something. What, you think she cursed you? Is she secretly a witch?"
He glared at me, not amused. "I'm serious, Damien. It's been happening for weeks. And it's not just the burn. It's..." He trailed off, struggling for the right words. "It's this pull, okay? Like I'm supposed to notice her, even when I don't want to."
"Whoa, whoa." I held up my hands, suddenly not laughing. "You're telling me this is more than a crush? Because, not gonna lie, that sounds like some soulmate-level nonsense. You know the kind of stuff our families have been warning us about since birth?"
His lips thinned into a grim line. "Don't call it that. I don't believe in that soulmate crap."
"Then what is it?"
"I don't know," he snapped. "That's the problem, Damien. I don't know what the hell is going on with me, and I don't know why it's happening now. But it's messing with my head, and I can't just... ignore it."
For once, I didn't have a sarcastic reply ready. This wasn't just some passing infatuation; Romeo was genuinely spooked by whatever was happening to him. And if it really was connected to Venecia, then we were treading into dangerous territory.
"Look," I said carefully, "maybe it's just stress. You've got a lot on your plate, what with your dad breathing down your neck about the whole Draekhaven heir thing."
He didn't look convinced.
"Or," I continued hesitantly, "maybe it's worth figuring out what's really going on. I'm not saying dive headfirst into Romeo-and-Juliet drama, but... maybe this thing with Venecia isn't just random."
His gaze sharpened, and for a second, I thought he might actually entertain the idea. But then he shook his head, the frustration returning.
"I can't let this get to me. It's probably nothing," he said, strapping on his helmet.
I wanted to tell him it clearly wasn't nothing, but I could see I wasn't going to get through to him right now. Instead, I stepped back, watching as he mounted his bike.
"Just don't do anything stupid," I called as he revved the engine.
He shot me a wry smile. "When do I ever?"
And with that, he sped off, leaving me in a swirl of exhaust fumes and unanswered questions.
As I stood there, a strange chill ran down my spine. Romeo was stubborn, sure, but this felt different—like we were standing on the edge of something neither of us understood.
Whatever this "thing" was, I had a feeling it was only the beginning.
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Do you think this will get to Romeo? Please leave your comment and like this chapter. See you in the next chapter. ADIOS!!