Chapter One Mild Clouds

Othello is a very droll subject, a cliché with the acceptation of unpredictability. To an English major it was a treasure chest filled with analytical tools, history, and primitive technical puzzles that make up the arts of writing. Admiringly, Shakespeare used relatable subjects to gain his devotees, subjects that were used more often in the modern entertainment industries. They could range from death to family or commonly to the famously infamous love. His sexual orientation even played a part in his incredulously significant career, bisexuality creating a whole new assemblage of readers.

Elizabeta was neither an English major nor a devoted follower of his books or him as a person, but if there was something she could even be faintly fond of, it would most definitely be his seventeen sonnets to the man anonymously known with the initials of W.H. She could empathize Shakespeare, especially from her own comparative perspective. The rest of his plot-based stories were all so mind numbing, she felt like she was choking on banalities.

Words were all so hollow, so easily used, they held no weight to them. Words were hard to believe, hard to relateto, no matter how well known or professional an author is. Words were miracles as much as they were hurtful.

Therefore as she watches apathetically as her classmates made a complete travesty of themselves, acting as the stereotypical characters in an outdated book, it takes a lot not to just outright groan. The end of her pen being the victim of her boredom, bighting it while zoning out to the screensaver of the students' forced lines. Her head being a pleasant place to fall into rather than the appalling performance of unenthusiastic teenagers. The applauding of the people near her tore her from her engaging thoughts, following along she quickly put the pen on her desk and clapped along.

The petit frame of her teacher came into view; unbeknownst to her, her spunky attitude did not help the dullness of the class. If it made any change, it just made the time more unbearable with uncomfortable silences after a terrible joke.

Elizabeta sighed, muttering praises to God that the class was over. She gathered her stuff with little thought, sliding the straps of her bag over her shoulders, then in the cluster of familiar strangers, started to leave.

"Eliza, Eliza!" A loud, grating Italian accent penetrated her ear drums with unforgiving decibels. The people around her looked the same direction she turned to, shooting dirty looks to the jubilant Italian skipping to where she stood.

"Hey Feli." Softly she smiled in greeting, walking a few steps forward to get closer to her next class. As much as she adored Feli, he can be quite the chatterbox, it usually ended up costing her a scolding from her teacher for being late.

"Ve~ are you coming to see Ludwig at the GSA meeting today?" His smile tortured her with guilt.

Oh that's right. She had promised to finally meet Feliciano's boyfriend afterschool. She internally cursed, the crushing weight that she would be stuck in school for an extra hour than needed caused her to hide a grimace. Feliciano was her good friend though, for years they had been by each other's shoulders, giving and taking advice almost by instinct from one another. She would even dare to call him her brother, excluding the blood ties.

Which meant if meeting his German partner was this important to him then she would dutifully stay after just for him. She knew he wanted to get her 'thumbs-up' on this so called Ludwig, especially being that it would be his first boyfriend in his whole youth. And it would be a lie to say that she wasn't filled with pride that her best friend would come to her for a proper consent on his relationship, but Eliza felt that it was unnecessary.

"Y-yea Feli that's great! Um, I have to go or else Mr. Kirkland is going to kill me!" Her words blended in the rush of speed as they slipped from her mouth. She heard the boy inhale to speak, but ran off before he had the chance to get a word out. He stood with his head tilted at an angle, watching her light brown locks bounce with every hasty step she made. Elizabeta was so odd sometimes.

She walked through the halls of the bottom floor, the tapping of her shoes echoing her occupancy of the desolate hallways. No matter what the order of the doors, room 101 was not there. It couldn't make sense, she's been in this school for a year and a half and she still couldn't find the theater room? After the third time of walking down the same hallway she caught the attention of a custodian. Green eyes widened and immediately she breathed out in relief, and then proceeded to say, "Excuse me?"

The inattentive dark skinned man looked up at her with a blink of acknowledgement. "Do you know where room 101 is? I've been looking everywhere and-"

"Its past the corner in that small corridor, near the doors to the parking lot." His head pointed to the floor he was sweeping, paying no more mind to the Hungarian girl. She looked at the older man for a few seconds before stuttering out her appreciation. "Thanks…have a nice day." With a flip of her hair, she turned on her heels and strode to the theater room.

The Gay Straight Alliance club felt almost as vacant as the hallways. For the time being she was invisible to the five people in the room, which meant she could leave without a question. Knowing her guilt wouldn't let her leave without a look at whatshe was leaving, her eyes roamed around the room person from person. Natalia, an eerie girl from Belarus that always had a dislikable aura around her person, stood in the front of the group spouting some words that were incoherent to the Hungarian's unfocused head. Feli was seated at the far left, his bubbly face struck with a smile that lit his whole expression ablaze. Her olive tinted eyes followed along the Italian's arm and who it was wrapped around. The blonde had a very deep stoic and solid look, his eyes set firmly on Natalia, and his body stiff in Feliciano's koala-like hold.

From the looks of it, Ludwig was a very serious, somber, and grim boy. He had a handsome face, but the question that popped into Elizabeta's mind was how in the holy hell did the rough looking student come to date the soft, innocent Italian? She shook her head, a chuckle leaving her before she could stop it. Opposites attract, she thought.

Mr. Jones was sat at his desk near Feli and Ludwig, looking at Natalia's animated speech with a guise between amusement and pure disinterest. She had never seen him around the school; his youthful face poorly disguised his inexperience teaching, as well as the littered room. No matter, the glasses did make him look somewhat intelligent.

Again she shook her head with mock disappointment, only to stop.

She had missed the boy at the far right of the room. How could she though? Everything about his was so attention snatching that it was almost impossible notto see him sprawled on his chair, lazily watching the blonde chatter on and on.

Without knowing, Elizabeta took a step closer, still invisible to all the rest of them. His long legs stretched for what seemed forever, sharpened hair that was the most unique color of silver-white left unkempt, and his eyes, a brown so amber that the orange hues wound into a red shade to his irises. In the right lighting, Eliza knew that they would be a blood red.

All the air in her lungs appeared to escape her and quickly choke the atmosphere around her, making it hard to notice the calling of her name. Only when those red-like eyes bore into her own did she feel that something connecting to her was twisting and gnawing at her. The gleam in those piercing orbs made her feel a synonymous twang in her heart and head, but it faded away when the familiar shout of her childhood friend invaded her ears once again.

"Please Mrs. Héderváry, take a seat-"

"Oh! Oh! Oh! Sit here Eliza!" Feliciano flailed his hands, nearly slapping Ludwig with his excitement, the blonde's eye scrunching as the boy's finger nearly poked it out. The brunette tore away from the soul-melting gaze, turning her profile to the albino boy. Curling her lips in a taut smile, she walked to the available chair next to Ludwig. Natalia glared at her for having the gall to rudely interrupt her preaching.

Natalia started up again, embarrassingly so, Elizabeta had no clue what she was going on about. She could barely concentrate, knowing the same pair of stunning eyes was sitting just several feet away. She nervously licked her lips and in one slow risky movement, her head turned to the left. The whiteboard behind the boy was the perfect thing to divert her eyes to if she was caught staring at him.

It was not needed though, he was already staring at her. In instinct, she looked back to Natalia, a hinting craving to look back tickled at the back of her mind. No, she decided. She will not succumb to the childish curiosity of simply turning her head and getting just one more good look of those incredibly almost crimson eyes.

She halted her thoughts when Natalia had looked in her direction, apparently addressing her for something. "I'm sorry," Elizabeta's hand went to the back of her neck, "Can you repeat the question?"

The blonde girl rolled her eyes and gave a huff of deliberate annoyance. "Do you want to do something for the GSA or not?" She asked snappily. Elizabeta frowned at her tone, she'd much rather be listening to this girl natter on then actually start a one on one conversation with her.

She shrugged then added, "Sure, what can I do?" It was an off feeling that clicked the conclusion that the albino boy was still staring at her. It was that feeling that stood out even when she could feel everyone else's eyes on her, the feeling of being stripped so emptily that she felt on the edge of vulnerable. She swallowed hard; shifting and fidgeting in her seat till she felt an appropriate number of walls had come up.

"Just get some statistics on bullying," The blonde waved her hand in her direction, "Okay that's it for today. I'll see you guys in a week!" It was as if the veil of a serious and scowling visage had just dissolved on Natalia's face and suddenly she was this cheerful, bubbly character. Eliza raised an eyebrow, her sight now set down at the untidy floor in front of her.

Eliza turned toward her friend and his partner with a bright smile. She held her hand out in front of Ludwig's chest at a difficult angle. "Hi I'm Elizabeta. You're…Ludwig right? I don't want to get that wrong or anything!" She started to laugh, but awkwardly quieted to a cough once she only received a blank stare from the built boy.

Feli, bless his soul, jumped to the rescue with his sunny voice. "Luddy, this is my friend! She is the one I told you about! She and I have been friends for so long, it almost feels like forever! It probably is forever! I hope its forever, she is my best best best friend! I love her almost as much as I love pasta! Oh! We should get pasta on the way home! Can we get pasta Luddy?" And so began the famous never ending pasta rant that Feli was unfortunately known for.

Elizabeta looked to Ludwig, the German looking down at Feli with a cold stare, but there was a warmth of a loving patience underneath the stern glower. It made her heart soar to unimaginable heights and if she was alone, she would squeal at the adorableness of the pair.

Glancing down at her watch, she bit her lip with worry. "Sorry feli, I really have to go or I'll miss my ride. It was nice meeting you Ludwig." She forced her hand into his and shook it with a rapid vertical motion. Feli pulled her into an endearing hug, then with a cheerful face, said goodbye.

Taking a deep breath she turned, mentally preparing herself to see him.

However the seat he was sitting in was empty and she felt an odd losing sensation, as if she had hopedto see him sitting there. As if she hoped to grasp onto that shredding eye-lock once more. As if she had hoped he would be staring at her again.

In her room she stared intently at her computer screen, just searching 'bullying statistics' as bluntly as Natalia had put it. The first link had a promising name to it, so she trailed her mouse to click, a pop up notifying her of a new message had darted in the very middle of the page.

Gilbert Beilschmidt has messaged you