Secret Admirer || Daniela Avanzini
Pairing: Popular!Daniela Avanzini x Nerd!Reader
Summary: Where at least twice a week, Daniela would receive anonymous letters from a secret admirer, and other times she'd get huge bouquets of flowers and chocolates. Daniela had absolutely no idea who was behind it all, but she seemed determined to find out.
Note: English is not my first language.
Warning: Mention of Hierarchical Difference (Popular x Nerd), Daniela is a bit spoiled, Reader is described as Tall and Muscular, Clumsy Reader, Secret Crush, Some Angst and Comfort!
Saint Claire Academy was a masterpiece of Gothic architecture that seemed to have been ripped straight out of some ancient European city and planted in the middle of the bustling metropolis. Polished marble hallways reflected the light streaming through arched windows, painting geometric patterns on the floor. On the ceiling, frescoes told stories of saints and sages, as if every step taken there were a sacred act of learning.
But any student who had spent more than a week at that institution knew that Saint Claire's true belief system wasn't in the frescoes.
It was in the invisible, yet fierce, hierarchy that governed every interaction, every laugh, every glance.
And at the top of that social pyramid, breathing the rarefied air of the gods, was Daniela Avanzini.
It wasn't just her beauty, though that alone was enough to stop traffic. Her blonde hair fell in perfect waves over her shoulders, as if even gravity refused to disrespect her. Her honey-brown eyes held a lively, intelligent sparkle that seemed to say, "I know exactly what you're thinking," and usually, she did. Her smile was an event, something that made the people around her hold their breath, waiting for a glimpse of divine approval.
Daniela Avanzini wasn't popular.
Daniela Avanzini was popularity.
She walked through the hallways as if she owned the place, and in a way, she did. Students stepped aside to let her pass, not out of fear, but out of a kind of reverential respect. Girls wanted to be her. Boys wanted to be with her. And Daniela, generous in her benevolent royalty, occasionally granted crumbs of attention to her subjects.
Well, you existed in a completely different universe.
Your world didn't have polished marble or ceiling frescoes.
Your world had the smell of aged paper, printer ink, and the comforting silence of the third-floor library. There, books didn't judge. There, equations had no hierarchies. A Pythagorean theorem was immune to your social standing.
That was where you felt at home.
You were tall. Not in that elegant, model-like way, like the girls in Daniela's group. You were tall in a gangly way, with broad shoulders you didn't quite know what to do with, long arms that seemed to have a life of their own, especially when you got nervous, which was whenever Daniela Avanzini was within a ten-meter radius.
Hours at the gym had sculpted your body in a way that other people might find intimidating. Defined muscles under pale skin, large hands that could lift impressive weights but trembled like green twigs when you tried to, I don't know, grab a glass of water in front of Daniela.
A paradoxical combination: the muscular nerd.
Once, you were leaving the chemistry room with your books when Daniela passed you in the hallway. Her perfume, something citrusy and floral, you spent weeks trying to identify the brand, you later found out it was a French import, invaded your senses. Your brain short-circuited. You tripped over your own feet, dropped a stack of notebooks, and nearly took a decorative plant pot with you.
Daniela didn't even notice.
She walked past you as if you were part of the furniture.
To Daniela Avanzini, you were just another piece of the scenery. The tall, clumsy girl who carried books that were too heavy and avoided eye contact. Invisible. Harmless. Irrelevant.
You repeated that to yourself every night, before going to sleep, as you replayed every tiny detail of those seconds of indirect interaction. It's fine. I don't need her to notice me. I don't need her to see me. I can admire from afar. Like a work of art. Like something beautiful and unattainable.
But Daniela's honey-brown eyes, when they occasionally swept the room and ignored you, left an emptiness.
An emptiness that began to grow.
An emptiness that began to hurt.
Until, one day, the emptiness became unbearable.
It was on a rainy Tuesday. You were sitting in your usual spot in the library, the table in the corner, near the window, where the light was good and no one bothered you. Your calculus notebook was open to page twenty-three, but your mind was elsewhere.
She was wearing a beige sweater that day, you remembered. Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun that, on anyone else, would be sloppiness; on her, it was style. She was laughing at something Sophia had said, and that sound, a laugh that sounded like musical notes, had followed you through every class, chased you to the library, haunted you in the silence.
And then, without thinking much, maybe that was the problem, you never thought when it involved Daniela, you grabbed a pen and started to write.
"For you," the letter began, the handwriting hesitant, trembling. "For the girl who makes the sun look dull. For the girl whose laugh I would hear in the middle of a noisy crowd. For the girl who doesn't know my name, but who makes me want to shout it from the rooftops."
You wrote about the way the light hit her hair during sunrise, creating a false halo of a saint. You wrote about the way she bit the tip of her pen when she was focused on reading, the little furrow of her brow, the slight biting of her lips. You wrote about how beautiful she was and how distant she was and how it broke your heart in a way you didn't even know was possible.
When you finished, you read it all over again, felt your face burn, and thought about tearing it up.
Instead, you folded the paper into three parts, found a purple envelope in your backpack, when did you buy purple envelopes? and, the next day, before the first bell, you left the letter in her locker.
Your heart hammered so hard you were sure someone would hear. Your hands trembled. You nearly dropped the envelope three times before managing to slide it through the slit of the locker.
You ran to the classroom as if the devil were chasing you.
And spent the rest of the day with your stomach in knots.
The reaction was… bigger than you imagined.
The next day, during break, you were sitting in the courtyard eating a cheese sandwich when Daniela appeared. Not near you, of course. Daniela appeared in the epicenter of the courtyard, surrounded by her usual entourage: Manon, with her watchful eyes and calculating smile; Sophia, the sweetest of the group, with her easy laugh; and other faces you only knew by sight.
Daniela was holding the letter.
"Guys, look what I found!" She exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Someone left it in my locker!"
Manon took the letter first, reading quickly, a smile appearing on her lips.
"'For the girl whose laugh I would hear in the middle of a noisy crowd.'" She read aloud, and you felt your stomach twist. "Wow, Dani. Someone's in love."
"It's so cute!" Sophia practically jumped, trying to read over Manon's shoulder. "Who do you think wrote it?"
Daniela took the letter back, a smug smile curving her lips. She examined the handwriting, turned the paper over, smelled it, she smelled the paper, and you nearly died right there.
"No perfume." She observed, with a small furrow of her brow. "Guys usually put perfume on letters, don't they?"
"Maybe it's someone more… discreet." Sophia suggested.
"Or more clueless." Manon added, but there was a playful tone in her voice.
Daniela tucked the letter into her bag carefully, as if it were a treasure. Her honey-colored eyes swept across the courtyard, examining every face, every possible suspect.
"I'm going to find out who it is." She declared, and there was determination in her voice. "I always find out."
You sank a little lower in your seat, praying for the ground to open up and swallow you.
Twice a week. Religiously. Like a sacred ritual.
Those were the days for the letters.
You developed an elaborate system. You watched Daniela, but not in an obvious way, at least, you hoped it wasn't obvious. You took note of small details: the book she mentioned reading in literature class (Pride and Prejudice, she said she adored Darcy), the flower she pointed out on the way to the parking lot (pink gerberas), the chocolate she always ordered at the school cafeteria (salted caramel, Belgian, from a specific brand).
Every piece of information was cataloged in your brain, archived, transformed into material for the next letter, the next gift.
The letters evolved quickly.
A week after the first, you left a bouquet of pink gerberas in her locker. The bouquet was enormous, almost ridiculous, with thirty-six carefully arranged stems. You saved up for weeks to pay for it.
When Daniela opened her locker and saw the flowers, the scream she let out echoed through the entire hallway.
"GERBERAS!" She held the bouquet as if it were a trophy, spinning around to show everyone. "How does he know? How does he know they're my favorites?"
"Sophia mentioned it the other day." Manon continued, with a mysterious smile. "That maybe your secret admirer wasn't so… masculine after all."
Daniela frowned, confused. Her honey-brown eyes scanned the hallway, sweeping over the curious faces watching the scene.
"No." She said, finally. "Is the handwriting feminine? I don't know. Maybe it's a sensitive guy. There are sensitive guys, Manon."
"There are." Manon agreed, but there was a glint in her eyes that suggested she still had her doubts.
You were just five meters away, leaning against the water fountain, holding a water bottle tightly enough to crumple the plastic. A part of you wanted to run. Another part wanted to confess everything right there, shout "IT WAS ME!", see the surprise in her eyes, the recognition.
But you did none of that.
You just watched, invisible, as Daniela smiled at the bouquet of gerberas with a happiness that wasn't for you.
Daniela wasn't the type to leave mysteries unsolved. She was determined, stubborn, and loved a challenge. And the secret admirer, that anonymous being who knew her tastes, her preferences, who made her feel special in a way no boy at school had ever managed, was the perfect challenge.
She started interrogating people.
Not aggressively, but with the disarming charm that only Daniela Avanzini possessed. She would approach someone during break, tilt her head, smile that smile that made knees go weak, and ask in a casual tone:
"You wouldn't happen to have any idea who's been sending me flowers, would you?"
Most people stuttered, blushed, denied vehemently. Some even confessed false affections, hoping it would bring them closer to her.
Daniela laughed, thanked them, and crossed names off an imaginary list.
You watched everything from afar, feeling your heart in your throat every time she approached your danger zone.
You were in the cafeteria, sitting at a corner table with your calculus companions, Yoonchae, who was quiet and brilliant, and Lara, who was loud and also brilliant, and Megan, who was both. You were distractedly biting into an apple when you felt the shadow.
A shadow of French perfume and overwhelming presence.
Daniela Avanzini was standing right in front of you, arms crossed, head slightly tilted. Her honey-colored eyes examined you with an intensity that made your brain melt into a useless puddle inside your skull.
"H-h-hey." You managed to articulate, after an awkward pause.
"You're the big girl who's always in the library, right?"
The word hit you like a punch. But you swallowed hard and nodded.
"Y/n," you managed to say your own name, which was already a miracle. "My name is Y/n."
"Y/n." Daniela repeated, as if tasting the word. Her smile widened slightly. "Right, Y/n. Tell me something."
She leaned forward a little, reducing the distance between you. You could see the tiny golden reflections in her eyes, could smell her perfume, could count the seconds your heart stopped beating.
"You wouldn't happen to have any idea who's been sending me flowers, would you?"
The words got lost somewhere between your brain and your mouth. You opened and closed your lips like a fish out of water. Your ears started to burn, oh, no, you knew what was coming next. First the ears, then the cheeks, then the neck. You were going to turn into a tomato right in front of her.
"F-flowers?" The word came out strangled. "I'm… allergic."
The lie was so absurd, so senseless, you almost laughed at yourself.
Beside you, Lara and Megan exchanged glances. Yoonchae hid her face behind her book.
Daniela watched you for a long moment. Her eyes traveled over your red face, your broad shoulders, your trembling hands.
"Of course not." She murmured, more to herself than to you. Her voice had a tone of disappointment. "Too clumsy to be that romantic."
She turned and walked away.
Manon and Sophia, who had been watching from afar, followed her.
You stood still, the apple forgotten on the table, the words echoing inside you like a painful mantra.
Too clumsy to be that romantic.
That night, you didn't sleep.
Not because of the embarrassment, although that certainly contributed. But because something inside you had broken. Not the admiration. Not the affection. But the illusion that, maybe, one day, Daniela might see you as something more than a clumsy big girl.
Maybe she was right. Maybe you were incapable of a caring gesture. Maybe everything you felt was just… inadequate.
But the next night, you wrote another letter.
Weeks turned into months.
Daniela Avanzini's secret admirer became a legend at Saint Claire. People speculated in the hallways, bet money during breaks, kept suspect lists that were updated weekly.
No one, absolutely no one, put Y/n's name on that list.
Because how could it be? The tall, clumsy girl who could barely form a full sentence near Daniela? The nerd who spent breaks in the library while normal people socialized? It was ridiculous.
You took advantage of this invisibility masterfully.
The gifts became more elaborate. Not just letters and flowers, but small gestures that demonstrated an intimacy that bordered on obsessive. One day, Daniela casually mentioned she had lost her favorite bookmark. The next day, a new bookmark, identical to the old one, appeared inside her literature book, with a note: "So you can pick up where you left off. Literally."
Daniela took the bookmark home and slept with it under her pillow. Manon found out later and didn't stop laughing for a week.
Another time, Daniela commented about a thermal mug that had broken. A week later, a new mug, exactly the same model, appeared on her desk in the classroom. The note said: "Hot coffee is a necessity, not a luxury."
"This is creepy." Sophia admitted, watching Daniela hug the mug like it was a puppy. "Whoever it is is watching you. For real."
"It's romantic." Daniela countered, but there was a slight tremor in her voice. "It's… attention. No one's ever given me this much attention."
"Dani, everyone gives you attention."
"Not like this." Daniela said, and her honey-colored eyes drifted away, lost in thought. "Not in the way that… that seems like they really see me."
You heard this conversation from behind a pillar, where you were hiding, not intentionally, you were just trying to get to the chemistry room and the path passed near them. Your hands sweated. Your heart raced.
She was starting to understand.
Because the next day, Daniela was back to her usual interrogation, approaching a boy from the soccer team with a charming smile.
"You wouldn't happen to have any idea who's been sending me flowers, would you?"
The boy, a tall blond named Mateus, blushed intensely.
"No! No, I mean… no, but I wish it had been." He stammered, and Daniela sighed, frustrated.
Another name crossed off the list.
You sighed in relief, hidden behind a column, the bouquet of lilies you planned to deliver later still hidden in your backpack.
Autumn arrived at Saint Claire with its palette of warm colors and the smell of dry leaves. The marble hallways grew colder, and students started wearing heavier coats, which, you discovered, was a tactical advantage. The larger pockets made transporting notes easier.
On that specific afternoon, Daniela was sitting in the café inside the school. Not the main one, but the cozy one on the second floor, with velvet armchairs and dark wood tables. Manon and Sophia were with her, chattering about some gossip you couldn't quite hear, even if you leaned dangerously out of your hiding spot behind a bookshelf.
Daniela wasn't paying attention.
You saw it. You always saw it.
Her honey-brown eyes were fixed on a vague point on the floor, her mind clearly elsewhere. She was spinning a pen between her fingers, a nervous habit you had noticed weeks ago, when she was particularly anxious about a math test.
"Dani? Dani!" Manon poked her arm. "Are you listening?"
"What? Yes, of course." Daniela blinked, coming back to reality. "Sophia's going to order the turkey sandwich, and you want the smoked salmon."
"That was five minutes ago." Manon said, with narrowed eyes. "Where is your head?"
Daniela sighed, running a hand through her hair.
"I was thinking about the last note."
"Ah." Sophia and Manon said in unison.
"He mentioned the pink tulips." Daniela continued, almost speaking to herself. "How did he know I talked to you about pink tulips, Manon? It was on Monday, in the hallway, for a few seconds. No one was around."
"Maybe someone was and you didn't notice."
"I always notice." Daniela said, but her voice didn't have its usual conviction. She seemed… disturbed. "It's like he's always there. Watching me. Knowing me. And I don't even know who it is."
Sophia touched her shoulder affectionately.
"No." Daniela answered too quickly. Then, more slowly: "I don't know. Maybe. It's strange to think that someone sees me in a way I don't see myself."
You held your breath behind the bookshelf.
She doesn't know, you thought. She has no idea.
And then Daniela sighed, stretched her arms over the table, and murmured:
"What a boring day. I'd trade everything right now for a hot chocolate and a chocolate chip cookie."
A hot chocolate and a chocolate chip cookie.
The information burned itself into your brain like fire. You left the café before they could see you, ran up the stairs, crossed the courtyard in long strides, and arrived at the main canteen breathless.
"One hot chocolate." You ordered, throwing money on the counter. "And three, no, five chocolate chip cookies. And… put whipped cream on the chocolate. Lots of whipped cream."
The employee raised an eyebrow, but prepared the order.
Five minutes later, you were back at the café, hidden behind the same bookshelf, watching.
"Miss Avanzini?" The waitress who worked at the café approached the table, carrying a tray.
Daniela looked up, surprised.
"Someone sent this hot chocolate and chocolate chip cookies for you."
The silence at the table was absolute.
Daniela looked at the tray, at the waitress, at the tray again. Her mouth opened slightly.
"Who?" She asked, and her voice came out higher pitched than normal.
"The person asked not to be revealed, miss." The waitress replied, with a small smile. She placed the tray on the table and withdrew.
Daniela stood staring at the steaming hot chocolate, the whipped cream slowly melting, the five cookies perfectly arranged on a small porcelain plate.
"This is…" Sophia started.
"Creepy." Manon finished. "I was going to say creepy."
"Romantic." Daniela whispered, but her voice trembled slightly. "It's… it's romantic. But it's also…"
"Very attentive." Sophia corrected.
Daniela picked up the hot chocolate with both hands, as if she needed something to warm herself. Her honey-colored eyes were shining in a different way, not the smug sparkle of someone receiving a compliment, but something deeper. More vulnerable.
"How does he know?" She asked in a low voice, almost to herself. "How does he know everything about me?"
Manon and Sophia exchanged glances.
"Maybe it's someone who's been watching you for a long time." Sophia suggested softly.
"Maybe it's someone who's closer than you think." Manon added.
Daniela bit into the cookie, and her eyes widened.
"It's my favorite." She murmured. "It's exactly my favorite."
On the other side of the café, you were sitting at the corner table with Megan, Yoonchae, and Lara. You tried to look casual, stirring your own hot chocolate, which you had bought as a cover, but your hands were shaking so much the liquid threatened to spill.
"Why are you so nervous?" Megan asked, with narrowed eyes. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Cold." You lied. "It's cold."
"It's twenty-three degrees."
Yoonchae lifted her eyes from her book for a moment, observed you, and then returned to her reading with a small smile on her lips.
She knows, you thought, feeling the panic rise. Yoonchae always knows everything.
But none of them said anything.
They just drank their coffee, ate their cakes, and pretended not to notice when you spent five minutes staring at Daniela's table as if she were the center of the universe.
Because, to you, she was.
The weeks continued. The gifts continued. The notes continued.
But something had changed.
Daniela was no longer just enchanted. She was… obsessed.
Not with the gifts themselves, although they continued to be luxurious and perfectly thought out. But with the mystery. With the person behind them.
She started observing people in a different way. Her honey-colored eyes no longer just cataloged; they investigated. She paid attention to who looked at her for too long, who blushed when she passed by, who hid behind books when she approached.
You noticed that her eyes were starting to land on you more frequently. Not with interest, not yet. But with a hint of… curiosity.
"Did you notice Y/n today?" Daniela asked Manon on a Thursday, while they were drinking juice in the courtyard. "She was looking at me in history class."
"Everyone looks at you in history class." Manon answered, without looking up from her phone.
"No. It was different. She was… studying. But she was also looking at me."
"You're getting paranoid, Dani."
"Maybe." Daniela admitted. "But… don't you think it's weird? She's tall, has an athlete's build, but she's completely clumsy around me. The other day she tripped over her own backpack when I walked into the library."
"Maybe she's just clumsy." Manon suggested.
"Or maybe she's nervous."
Silence stretched between them.
"Dani." Manon said, finally, with a warning tone. "Y/n is a weird nerd who spends her time in the library. It's not her."
"I know." Daniela sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I know. It's ridiculous. But… she's always around, don't you think? Not in an obvious way. But when I look at the corners, at the quietest places… she's there."
But her gaze followed Daniela's, landing on the corner table, where you were completely absorbed in a calculus book, or pretending to be.
You felt their eyes on you like a physical weight.
Your heart raced. Your hands sweated. You turned a page you had already read three times.
She's watching me, you thought, panic and hope mixing in a nauseating combination. She's starting to see.
February fourteenth arrived.
All of Saint Claire was decorated with paper hearts, red balloons, and roses being sold at exorbitant prices in the main lobby. Couples kissed in the hallways, defying all rules against displays of affection, and the singles walked around crestfallen, carrying the weight of loneliness on a day that celebrated love.
For Daniela Avanzini, however, Valentine's Day wasn't about loneliness.
It was about expectation.
Since six in the morning, gifts had started arriving. Red roses from an admirer who signed only "A Senior Boy." A box of generic chocolates from another who, by the trembling handwriting, was clearly nervous. A silver bracelet, pretty but impersonal.
Daniela thanked them, smiled, stored everything in a bag that Manon carried.
But her eyes remained expectant.
"It hasn't arrived yet." Sophia observed, as they climbed the stairs to the second floor.
"He'll send something." Daniela said, with a confidence that didn't seem entirely genuine. "He always sends."
And then, when they opened her locker after third period…
Inside the locker, occupying all the space, was the most beautiful bouquet she had ever seen. Lilies as white as snow, twenty-four of them, tied with a lavender-colored satin ribbon. Beside it, a box of Swiss chocolates, not just any chocolate, but those from a specific brand that was only sold at a confectionery downtown, two hours away.
And, on top of the chocolates, an envelope.
Daniela picked up the envelope with trembling hands. The handwriting was familiar, the same as the letters, the notes, the small gestures that had marked the last few months.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Daniela.
I know you're confused. I know you want to know who I am. And I wish I could tell you, out loud, looking into your eyes. But fear is greater than courage. The fear that, when you find out, everything will change. The fear that you'll look at me and see only what you've always seen: a shadow. Someone invisible.
But today, on the day of love, I want you to know one thing.
I see you. Not the way others do. Not the popular girl, the queen of Saint Claire, the prettiest girl in the room. I see Daniela. The girl who laughs with her eyes. The girl who bites her lips when she's nervous. The girl who keeps the notes she receives in a box under her bed, yes, I know about that.
I see you. And I love you. Silently. Secretly. Possibly forever.
If you want to know who I am… meet me in the isolated room on the top floor. After the last class. I'll wait.
Daniela spent the entire day in a state of nervousness that bordered on a nervous breakdown. She could barely concentrate in class, barely eat, barely breathe. The note was folded in her pocket, the paper already crumpled from how many times she had reread it.
Manon and Sophia tried to go with her, but Daniela refused.
"I need to do this alone." She said, and there was a fierce determination in her eyes.
The stairs to the top floor were narrow and dusty. No one frequented that part of the school since they had deactivated the art rooms the previous year. The light came in weakly through dirty windows, creating elongated shadows on the creaking wooden floor.
Daniela walked down the empty hallway, her footsteps echoing in the stillness.
The isolated room was at the end, on the left. The door was ajar.
She took a deep breath. Once. Twice.
She pushed the door open.
Sitting at an old desk, in the corner of the room, your hands resting on your knees and your head bowed. The light from the dirty window fell on your broad shoulders, on the gray sweater you were wearing, on your large hands that trembled slightly.
Daniela stood in the doorway for a long moment, processing.
"You." She finally said, and her voice came out strange, not surprise, not anger, not… anything she expected to feel.
Your face was red, not just your cheeks, but your neck, your ears, even the top of your forehead. Your eyes were glistening, as if you had been crying, or were about to.
"Daniela." You said, and her name came out of your mouth like a prayer. "I… I can explain."
"It's you?" Daniela took a step forward, her honey-colored eyes wide, incredulous. "The clumsy nerd who can't form a sentence around me? The girl who said she was allergic to flowers? It's you who's been sending me letters for months? Who gives me pink gerberas and Belgian chocolates and bookmarks?"
"And you know what kind of cookie I like?" Daniela's voice was getting louder, higher pitched. "And what brand of Swiss chocolates I prefer? And that I keep the notes under my bed? How do you know that, Y/n?"
You stood up from the chair, your fight or flight instincts screaming to run, but your legs refused to obey.
"Because I watch you." You said, and your voice came out firmer than you expected. "Because I've been watching you for two years, Daniela. Since the first day you walked into that history room with a blue sweater and a smile that… that made me forget how to breathe."
Daniela opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
"I know it sounds creepy." You continued, the words pouring out like a waterfall now, impossible to contain. "I know it sounds obsessive. And maybe it is. But it's not… it's not the way you think. I don't want to scare you. I don't want to hurt you. I just… I just wanted you to know that someone sees you. Someone really sees you. Someone cares about the little details, about the way you furrow your brow when you're confused, about the way you hold your pen when you're nervous, about the fact that you hate it when people interrupt you mid-sentence."
Daniela took another step forward. Then another. Now she was just a meter away.
"Why didn't you ever say anything?" Her voice was strangely… fragile. A fragility you had never heard before. "Why stay in the shadows?"
"Because I was scared." You admitted, and a tear escaped, sliding down your hot face. "You're Daniela Avanzini. You're the sun. And I'm… I'm just someone who lives in the dimness, admiring from afar. I thought if you knew, you'd laugh. Or worse, you'd feel pity. 'The clumsy big girl who can't even talk to me properly.' That's what you said. 'Too clumsy to be romantic.'"
Daniela's face changed. Surprise gave way to something you couldn't identify, guilt? Regret?
"You don't have to apologize." You cut in, wiping the tears with the back of your hand. "You were right. I am clumsy. I am weird. I spend breaks in the library while you're out there, living. But when I write those letters… when I choose those flowers… I don't feel clumsy. I feel… enough. I feel like, for a few minutes, I can be the person who makes you smile. And that…"
Daniela took the last step. Now she was right in front of you, so close you could feel the heat of her body, could see the tiny particles of gold in her honey-brown eyes.
"And that what?" She asked softly.
"That's all I ever wanted." You whispered. "Not to be loved back. Not to be corresponded. Just… to know that I can make you happy. Even if you never know my name."
The wind blew outside, making the dirty windows tremble. A dry leaf danced across the floor.
And then, before you could say anything else…
Daniela leaned in and kissed you.
It wasn't a soft kiss, nor hesitant. It was a determined kiss, as if she was trying to prove something to you, or to herself. Her lips met yours with an intensity that made you take a step back, your back hitting the dusty wall.
Daniela followed the movement, her hands coming up to grab your sweater, pulling you closer.
You stood paralyzed for a second, two, three, your brain overloaded, unable to process what was happening.
Then, something inside you broke loose.
Your hands, those large, trembling, clumsy hands, rose and found Daniela's waist. You pulled her against you, harder than you intended, and Daniela let out a small sound of surprise against your lips.
There was no technique there, just two years of frustration, two years of silent desire, two years of "too clumsy" being dismantled in a single gesture.
When Daniela finally pulled back, her lips were red and swollen, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
"Never again." She said, her voice hoarse. "Never call yourself clumsy again. Do you hear me?"
You nodded, unable to form words.
"And never again." She continued, her fingers caressing your face, wiping away the traces of your tears. "Never think you're not enough. You gave me gerberas and chocolates and notes that made me feel… made me feel like someone saw me. Really saw me. No one's ever done that before."
"Daniela…" You started, but she cut you off with another kiss, quicker, lighter, almost a seal.
"You're an idiot." She murmured against your lips. "A romantic, creepy, and… and amazing idiot. How did you manage to hide this for so long?"
"Fear." You repeated, your forehead resting against hers. "A lot of fear."
"Of losing you. Even though I never had you to begin with."
Daniela laughed, that laugh you had spent two years hearing from afar, which was now so close you could feel the vibration against your chest.
"You're ridiculous." She said.
Daniela pulled back enough to look into your eyes. Her smile was different now, not the smug smile of the queen of Saint Claire, but something more genuine. More vulnerable.
"Mine." She repeated. "You're mine. From now on. Because if you thought you were going to write all those letters, give me all those gifts, know all my secrets, and then just… disappear again… you're very wrong, Y/n."
You laughed, a silly, incredulous laugh, that echoed through the empty room.
"I'm not going anywhere." You promised.
"Good." Daniela said, and her arms wrapped around your neck, pulling you into a hug. "Because I have a huge list of questions. How did you find out about my favorite bookmark? How did you know about the Swiss chocolate? And how the hell did you manage to get into my classroom to put the new mug there without anyone seeing?"
"Professional secrets." You joked, and Daniela laughed against your shoulder.
Outside the room, hidden behind the door, Manon, Sophia, Lara, Megan, and Yoonchae exchanged glances of pure triumph.
"I knew it." Megan whispered, with a huge smile.
"You bet against it." Lara reminded her.
Yoonchae just smiled, turning another page of her book, as if nothing had happened.
As if she already knew the ending of this story from the beginning.
The next day, Daniela Avanzini showed up at the library.
Not to look for a book, not to interrogate anyone, but to sit at your table. Right in front of you.
"I'm bored." She announced, as if that explained everything. "And you have the most interesting face in the library."
You blushed, you would always blush around her, apparently, but you smiled.
"I do." Daniela agreed. "But you're here."
And she pulled up a chair, sat down next to you, and spent the whole afternoon watching you solve calculus equations while eating the chocolates you had brought, "just in case," you said.
And the sun, for the first time, decided that the shadow also deserved a little light.
