The cafeteria at Prufrock Preparatory School was dark, cold, loveless. The swinging doors creaked like Nero's screechy violin as Duncan entered. It was past midnight, but he knew he could no longer suppress his love... it felt as though his heart was an ugly old sweater, being tossed and torn apart, and as the last threads were mercilessly pulled from it, he must return to her... she who was tearing his heart so cruelly. He felt as though this thread was stuck, and so she pulled harder and harder until he felt his heart would break if he did not see her tonight. With a sigh, he glanced over the tables. The cafeteria seemed empty, but he knew she was there. This was where the terrible strain on his heart was taking him... He tried to resist, but it was a futile tug of war. His heart was unraveling.
And then he saw her, paler in the moonlight but her buttery glow was still radiant, and he knew he loved her with all his old-sweater heart. She was soft and light, but seemed to stare at him with the seriousness of a million french bakers.
He sat down on one of the cheap cafeteria stools, not beside her, but across from her. He knew what he had to say.
"It seems as though you've been calling to me all night. My stomach and chest have been hopeless since I saw you at dinner," he said, sorrowfully.
She didn't answer him, only stared, with her melancholy gaze.
"And I know we have to end this. I have to give in... there's something about you. It makes me almost hungry... and I can't stand it anymore. I've been trying to hold back, but I know I'll never be able to, so long as you are still here. This is tearing me apart."
She was silent again.
Slowly, Duncan moved toward her. He stroked her cheek. Then, slowly he kissed her. She was like flavored heaven. She yielded to his kiss, and soon, he was devouring her, like the croissant she was.
Yes, Duncan's true love was a croissant, and now she was gone... Mercilessly swallowed by her supposed lover. In retrospect, he realized that this tormenting passion he had suffered was not love... no, quite the contrary, it was simple hunger, doubtless a result of his lack of cutlery and spirit at dinner time.
So, with a full and satisfied stomach, Duncan left the dark cafeteria.
Author's note: For the record, Duncan is literally in love with a croissant. Someone didn't seem to catch that... but yes, the croissant not a metaphor, it's a literal croissant (you know, the French Pasrty)? Madamluna suggested I write Duncan/a croissant for NWSW, so I did. Because everything else just wasn't weird enough.