The Authentic Cohort

The quirking sound of the alarm rang, but it was only in his head. William never used an alarm to wake himself up, as he despised the gradient need for a twisting template for the mortuary.

"I know, when I reach school, she will be there," William said, almost with a lightened heart but with a nervousness obscured. Something was there between him and his heart that was keeping them apart. 

He reached the school in time but also waited five minutes to enter the classroom, as he reluctantly hated being noticed by his cohorts. He then, with his head turned down, went to his classroom, and in a gaze with a hasty maze, he sat down without looking at anything. 

"Is she already here? I don't know if she is even here or not, as I am afraid to look. But why? Why should I be afraid? But what if I look at her and she looks at me back? What if she suspects that I am looking at her? What would she think about me? She would despise me for looking at her, probably. And what if she comes back to ask me why I should look at her? I just don't know." William was in a tremendous rage; his heart was collapsing with the thought of a sage in the wintery layers of Isabelle's gaze. He was flustered, and yet he didn't even know if Isabelle was already there or not. He continuously thought about checking the class, but he couldn't raise his head and stare. Time was passing, and as soon as the bell rang, the first period began to grapple. He still didn't know if Isabelle was there; at least he could have looked, but yet he said farewell to his thoughts of looking at her. At last, finally, when the teacher came, he soothed his eyes towards the left corner and gave a thorough look at every girl's face.

"Where is she? I could see every girl, and I cared about no one. But where is the one with whom I feel so different? Hasn't she come yet, and why hasn't she come yet? She has taken a holiday, but why on the second day? I thought I would see, and yet I wasted my time coming here. Now, how will I spend my day, not having the sight of her? But does it matter?" William was dispirited and got downed in a repulsive manner. His face didn't seek sweat, and yet he was feeling the derns of lingering flames. He was like the child who went to an amusement park with his parents only to find that the rides that day were under renovation. The inner soberness of the child reminds him of his inner thoughts—he was astonished but a bit mature.

He noticed the guy sitting behind him, staring at him. He felt as if he could recognise in just a moment of sight whether someone was drawing a look at him. He never liked being looked at, not even if someone was looking at him with love. He felt as if he were layered with bricks—tremendous pressure. 

"Is he looking at me? Oh, Hades of Shades!" William procured to look at him now; he could look at the people who didn't look but always failed to look at the one he wanted, maybe because he never wanted anyone at all.

He turned to the guy looking at him (as he thought), and as he moved, he saw that cohort without knowing much. That guy gave a firm hello, and William just nodded and moved to his shallow thoughts that actually covered his entire psyche.

The period was over, and the boy approached him from the side.

"Hey, you are new to this school. I thought about saying hello even yesterday, but you went too early." The stranger affirmed this to William in a somewhat platonic manner. 

William was quite relevant to the people whom he didn't give any consideration. He could feel as if he could actually charm someone for whom he cared less than none.

"Hello, I am William. I feel good that you came to talk to me. Nice to meet you. What's your good name?" William proceeded.

"I am Cecil. Good to meet you too, William." Cecil said it as if he were whispering due to being a little sounder.

"I can tell you, Cecil, that you're a good person. I hope we become good friends; oh, we already have."

William smiled and gave his hand to him for a handshake. He also thought he could pact a great impact on the people about whom he couldn't care less. He even went and revolutionised the rabble of dabble. But he failed to go in the direction of his desire.

"Have I done a bit of fluttering here? No, and I don't really care," William said to himself.

Cecil, who looked exactly his age with his a bit affirmative looks yet not enough confidence, was amazed, and he showed his gratitude by offering him to go outside. But yet William accepted his sense of mind was on the route to finding his only hope, yet he coped—Isabelle.