The school courtyard buzzed like a shaken soda can. Voices collided and popped in the warm spring air - cheers, groans, and dramatic sighs echoing off the walls of Blackwell Academy. Students crowded near the bulletin board just outside the main entrance, jostling shoulder-to-shoulder to glimpse the freshly posted results of the student council election.
From her perch on the rooftop, Reina Stellboar watched the chaos unfold below. The breeze tugged gently at the hem of her blazer, and a few strands of her short black hair whipped across her face. She didn't brush them away. Her hands gripped the railing tightly, knuckles pale against the chipped paint, as the voices of the students filtered up to her.
"Oh my god, she won!"
"Obviously - it's Sera Potterson. Who else?"
"Flawless victory. Seriously, two straight years of domination."
The name echoed louder than the rest. Reina didn't need to hear the numbers to know what they said, but when her eyes flicked down to the crisp white paper on the board, the reality hit her square in the chest anyway:
Student Council President: Sera Potterson (128 votes)
Vice President: Keiji Sato
Runner-up: Reina Stellboar (126 votes)
Two votes.
Two.
Reina's lips parted, but no sound escaped. She backed away from the railing like the numbers might leap off the page and mock her from below.
She had rehearsed this moment. Told herself it wouldn't matter. That she only ran out of principle - because someone had to challenge Sera's spotless track record.
Someone had to push back against the glowing image of perfection the school worshipped like gospel. But no amount of rationalizing softened the sting.
The truth was, she hadn't expected to win - but she hadn't expected to lose like this either. Not by two votes. Not to her.
Reina turned away from the edge, her shoes echoing softly against the concrete as she sank down onto the rooftop bench. Her fingers curled around the fabric of her skirt, twisting it in frustration. Below, the cheers continued, as did the steady chant of Sera Potterson's name.
She was everything Reina wasn't. Polished, graceful, effortlessly warm. The kind of girl who remembered everyone's birthday, whose notebooks were color-coded and spotless, whose uniform was always pressed to perfection. She was the sort of person who volunteered for things and meant it. Who smiled at underclassmen and actually remembered their names.
It made Reina sick.
Except - it didn't.
It never did.
Because Sera Potterson wasn't just the school's golden girl. She was real. Infuriatingly real. And kind in ways that weren't performative or convenient. Reina had seen it, in flashes she tried to forget. The way Sera once gave up her umbrella to a shivering first-year in the rain. How she'd stayed late to help a struggling club set up their exhibit during cultural week. The way her laughter felt like sunlight cracking through heavy clouds.
Reina hated her.
Except she didn't.
Not even a little.
She had tried to, for months - maybe longer - but no matter how sharp her sarcasm got or how cold her retorts became, that feeling never took root. Somewhere along the line, admiration had slipped into something deeper. Something raw and quiet and unwelcome.
It had started in the debate club, she thought. Their arguments had been legendary - Sera with her calm logic and poised delivery, Reina with her fiery passion and sharp wit. Sparks flew, and the crowd always loved it. Reina had assumed that was all it was.
But somewhere between "I respectfully disagree" and "You're insufferable," Reina had begun to look at Sera differently. Watch the way her brow furrowed when she was concentrating. Notice how she tapped her pencil twice when she was nervous. Her eyes - warm brown, edged with steel.
And just like that, it had become something else. A quiet obsession. A maddening curiosity. A longing she didn't know what to do with.
"I'm such a damn idiot," she muttered, dragging her hands down her face.
The worst part? Sera didn't even know. Didn't suspect. Not a clue that Reina had spent months orbiting her like a reluctant moon, offering half-hearted jabs and withering glances just to keep her distance. That underneath every verbal spar was the quiet ache of someone who wanted to understand, to be seen - and hated herself for it.
The door to the rooftop creaked faintly behind her. Reina froze, but no one came. Probably the wind. Or maybe a ghost, come to laugh at her misplaced feelings.
Below, the crowd had started to thin. But at the center of it all still stood Sera Potterson. Calm. Poised. Dressed in the same navy uniform as everyone else, yet somehow brighter. Like the sun knew how to land on her just right.
She was laughing now. Politely. Always politely. Her ponytail swayed as she nodded to someone offering congratulations. Her smile was small and composed, but her eyes sparkled with something genuine. A touch of surprise. A hint of gratitude. Maybe even pride.
Reina stared for too long.
She couldn't stay here.
She couldn't look at her and feel this sharp, aching contradiction in her chest - that mixture of envy, admiration, and something too close to love.
She stood quickly, brushing nonexistent dust from her skirt, and moved toward the rooftop door.
"Enjoy your little kingdom, President Potterson," she muttered under her breath, voice laced with dry sarcasm. "I'll be the annoying gremlin lurking behind the throne."
Still, something in her ached. She didn't want the spotlight. Not really. She didn't want the applause.
She just wanted to be close.
And if that meant playing the rival… then so be it.
There were other ways to stay in someone's orbit. Quieter ways. Hidden ones. A gesture left unseen. A kind word whispered by someone else. Protection without credit. Love without confession.
If she couldn't be Sera's equal, maybe she could be her ghost. Her shadow. The one who picked up the pieces before they hit the ground.
Unseen.
Unthanked.
But always there.
Reina Stellboar was many things: sharp-tongued, impulsive, relentless.
But when she loved… she loved without needing to be loved back.
Even if it meant being misunderstood.
Even if it meant being the villain in someone else's story.