Text Confessions
Memory 5
Wanda couldn’t help feeling smug as she leaned back in her chair, sweeping the library through the glass wall of her study room, awaiting her “study partner” to arrive. Victor.
She had found his weakness - kindness. And what a truly crippling weakness it turned out to be. She watched with delight as Victor’s resolve to keep saying no drained from his eyes like a tipped over glass of water. It seemed even he was caught off guard by his blindspot, as if his kindness had never been called upon in the past.
Well, no matter. Wanda wasn’t above using underhanded tactics to win, if the situation called for it. And this situation definitely did.
So she played the damsel in distress for him, coming up with reasons to ask him for help. It started with missing notes during class. Then she needed help with her homework. Then she needed help going over concepts from class. Then she needed help studying for an exam. Oh, shoot , she left her laptop at home; could they share?
She surprised herself with the myriad of ways she came up with to drag him back to that room.
In Wanda’s defense, they weren’t exactly lies. While she didn’t necessarily need Victor’s help, it certainly didn’t hurt. It didn’t take long for her to discover that he was the smartest one in their class - not an easy title to claim with the competition at their school. While Wanda was secure in her ability to get by without him, persuading him to help with her schoolwork made sure she was on top of her studies moreso than she usually was.
But the most surprising thing was that Victor never said no. And he never questioned her either.
After his “help”, which usually didn’t take up the whole length of their study hall, Victor would busy himself with other work he had. She had been quite surprised that he hadn’t taken the opportunity to flee. He’d simply put on his earbuds and zone out again, his eyes losing that vibrant flair they had when he spoke. They dulled to an almost grayish-blue under the shadow of his downturned gaze, similar to the sky on a cloudy day. Wanda often felt the strong urge to annoy him during these moments just so she could see him look up at her again, but something stopped her. Seeing him like this, in a vulnerable state of shared silence - it felt like he was trusting her with something fragile. She just wished she knew what that “something” was.
Wanda knew she’d entangled him permanently in her web when he came to the study room one day unannounced. She had been half-heartedly reading a history assignment when the groan of the old wooden door opening pleasantly surprised her.
Victor tucked himself neatly into the chair across from her, backpack placed in the empty chair next to him. His movements were smooth, barely looking as he went through the motions of entering and sitting down in the room. It had become second nature to him, it seemed.
As he settled himself, pulling out his laptop and other school supplies, Wanda tilted her head in confusion. Victor met her eyes, seemingly expecting something from her. But she said nothing, only looked back at him, watching as the moment stretched a beat too long and he began to squirm under her gaze.
“So, um… what are we doing today?”
“What do you mean?”
Now it was Victor’s turn to appear confused.
“Well… you’ve asked for my help every day for the past couple weeks now. I just assumed -”
“You shouldn’t assume. You know what they say about people who assume.” Wanda snarkily interjected, and Victor sighed inwardly at his poor choice of words.
“Well, I didn’t… I hadn’t meant to imply -” Wanda waved away the end of his sentence and shook her head. “Vic, really. It’s fine. I just don’t have anything to do. Christmas break is this week, and I’ve already wrapped up most of my assignments.”
“Really? Are you sure?”
Wanda let her response drag a bit as she leaned her chair back, balancing it on its two back feet, interlocking her fingers behind her head, a sigh of contentment escaping her as her back popped from the stretch.
“Very sure. Let’s just say… I have a very strict tutor.”
Victor let out a chuckle and nodded in agreement at her comment, unable to deny his own perfectionist nature. Wanda simply smiled in return.
“I suppose you’re right. I don’t have much to do either, for once.”
“You? Nothing to do? Now that’s rare.”
Victor’s gaze narrowed at her as he folded his arms defensively across his chest.
“I can’t help it. Also, stop sitting like that; you’re going to hurt yourself.”
Wanda let the chair fall forward with a gentle thump, and opted to rest her head in her palms as she leaned across the table towards Victor.
“Well, what are we gonna do, then? I’m bored. Entertain me.”
Wanda’s hopes rose as she saw Victor reach into his bag, only to deflate once he pulled out a book, followed by his earbuds.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m going to do some light reading.”
“Noooooooo, don’t zone out on me. I’m going to die of boredommmmm!”
Victor seemed completely unaffected by her whining, popping his earbuds in and opening the book to a bookmarked page. Laying the book down on the table in front of him, he leaned his face into his palm as he stared down at it, index finger lazily tracing upon the sentence he was reading.
With an internal groan, Wanda tried racking her brain for something to do. Anything. While shared silence when they were both working was fine, she currently had nothing to occupy her mind, her thoughts racing wildly with no purpose to focus them. She was beginning to hate the way her thoughts kept drifting back to Victor. How she had to count the seconds her eyes lingered on his hands so she wouldn’t linger too long. Wanda had small hands, a fact she secretly resented about herself, as it made her feel weak. But Victor’s hands were large, his fingers long and precise as they traced the words upon the page, lazily rubbing the corner of the next page between his pointer and thumb - Fuck, how many seconds had she been looking -
“I’ll be right back.”
Victor’s voice caused her to flinch out of her thoughts, and her eyes looked up in time to watch him walk out of the room. Guess he hadn’t noticed her staring.
Now Wanda sat in their study room. Alone. And her brain immediately conjured up another clever idea to entertain herself.
Victor’s stuff sat before her. His backpack, his book. In the times they talked, Victor tended to be secretive. While he’d entertain her rants and listen to her attentively, he rarely talked about himself. His hobbies, the music he liked, his home life - Wanda suddenly realized how little she knew about him. And the answers had been laid bare before her. But… it was wrong, right? To look through Victor’s things without his permission? And yet…
Wanda was able to contain herself for all of 30 seconds before her impulsivity demanded she look.
First, the book. It was closest to her - easiest item to write off as just an innocent peek if he suddenly walked in on her. She flipped the book open to its bookmark, and she found her eyes lingering on that more than the book itself. It was worn, its edges and cover having a few scratches. Sealed in the clear plastic exterior was a sheet of paper covered in flowers - real flowers that had been pressed and dried to create a tiny arrangement. Like a canvas. Both sides were decorated, each with different flowers in varying sizes and colors, both very well done. The balance of color and shape took the eye of an artist - something Wanda could easily identify as a self-proclaimed artist herself.
Setting the bookmark aside, she then examined the book. Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Philip K. Dick. She’d heard of the book before - some old dystopian book about AIs. She could’ve guessed he’d liked this sort of thing - he looked the part. A nerd. Figures.
The groan of the study room door stole her attention away from the book as Victor entered the room, a look of confusion on his face.
“What are you doing with my book?”
“Whoops - you caught me!” Wanda chuckled guiltily, though not feeling guilty in the slightest. With a frown, Victor took the book out of her hands.
“You removed my bookmark - now I’ll have to find my page again…” he muttered to himself as he leafed through the pages, attempting to find his place again.
“Speaking of bookmarks…” Wanda gestured to him with said stolen bookmark, “This one is pretty neat! Did you make it?”
His eyes widened as he looked at Wanda’s hand, and she bit her lip to suppress a full-blown grin as she watched a searing blush travel up his neck.
“Oh, well… yes, I did. It was nothing really, just something for an art class in elementary school.”
“This is well made. You didn’t tell me you’re an artist.”
Now the blush had reached his face, and he ran a hand through his hair as he looked away from her, trying to reign in his embarrassment.
“I didn’t tell you because I’m not one.”
“Bullshit. You’ve got a better understanding of color theory than I do - not that that’s saying much, but still. I know art when I see it, and this - ” Wanda waved the bookmark dramatically in his face for effect, the bookmark making a funny warbling sound, “ - is art.”
Victor snatched it back from her, placing it back in his book as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“Thanks..” he huffed out indignantly, still unable to meet her gaze.
“You’re welcome. You really ought to learn to take a compliment.”
“Right. Oh, um, one other thing - “ Victor reached into his backpack, his blush’s intensity not letting up, “I wanted to give this to you.”
Wanda perked a questioning eyebrow as he nervously handed her a scrap of paper. With a steely cool gaze, she took it from his grasp, choosing to ignore the way her heart skipped a beat when their fingers brushed. She looked up at Victor’s face to revel in how adorably awkward and uncomfortable he was before opening the note.
“Your phone number? Asking me out on a date, Vic?”
Wanda grinned like a cat that had caught the canary as Victor’s mouth open and shut a few times as he struggled to respond, like a fish out of water, gulping for air.
“N-no! No, no, I just… Christmas break is coming up soon, and… we won’t see each other for a while. So I thought it’d be nice if we could… i-if you want to, I mean, you don’t have to - “
“Of course I want to.”
Victor shut himself up at her response, accepting her words with a nod. Wanda input his number in her phone and texted him so he’d have her number.
“Texting you will make my Christmas break much less boring, after all.”
Memory 6
Westview Academy had a long Christmas break in an attempt to mimic a college’s schedule, so halfway through December, Victor was released from his school shackles to relax at home for a few weeks. As much as his father, Ulysses “Ultron” Shade, would allow him to, anyways.
His father didn’t believe in wasting time - there was always something productive to be done with your time, according to him. So he found things for Victor to do - clean around the house, shovel the driveway of snow, do the dishes, chop wood for the fireplace, and so on. Outside of chores, Ultron made him search for intellectual projects to keep himself busy, such as programming challenges or projects, limiting his downtime, even though it was supposed to be a break.
But Victor didn’t argue with his father. He’d grown up listening to the screaming matches between his older brother Jarvis and their father, and Jarvis never won. He always fought, but in the end, Jarvis only seemed to cause more trouble for himself as his father would retaliate by tightening his control - taking away his things, locking him in the house, forcing him to do more chores and tasks so he had less free time. Victor had decided arguing was pointless - there was no winning, so he might as well comply and hope for the best.
This didn’t mean Victor didn’t have a few workarounds. While he was supposed to be in his room, working on a programming project, he would often do other things as well, carefully calculating how much time he needed to complete enough work to appear as if he’d worked hard, then explore his other hobbies.
Victor loved plants; especially flowers. His father allowed him one houseplant that grew in a vine on his windowsill, and while he cherished it, he deeply wished to keep flowering plants. He loved their vibrant colors, the softness of their petals. He adored watching them grow - there was no wrong way for a plant to grow, and from a seed, they knew exactly how to grow into themselves. Undeterred, stubborn, passion for life bursting from their luscious green stalks. Plants entranced him in their silent beauty.
But his father wasn’t a fan of the hobby. They didn’t keep a garden; their house consisted of two boys, with Jarvis away at college, so there wasn’t enough time for either of them to tend to one. And their house had a modern style to it, with his father favoring neutral, masculine tones with glass tables, stainless steel appliances, black marble countertops. So plants didn’t fit in. His father especially hated flowers, and gave him a look of disgust when Victor had tried asking years ago.
So he collected flowers in secret. He’d find them on his way home from school - whether in the woods, the sidewalk, or occasionally stolen from a neighbor’s garden, which he wasn’t particularly proud of. In his defense, he only ever took one flower at a time - surely nothing that would be missed.
He would carefully hide them in a small box in a pocket of his backpack, secure from being crushed, and would then press them in his old textbooks at home. If he couldn’t grow flowers, he at least wanted to keep them near him. When he heard his father’s heavy footsteps approaching down the wooden floors of the hall, Victor would swipe his pressing kit into the drawer of his desk and resume programming, his father none the wiser.
When Wanda had discovered his bookmark, he had braced himself to be mocked for being girly or even gay, as others had criticised him frequently for not being “masculine enough” in the past. But she hadn’t. In fact, she had told him it was well made. Even went as far to call him an artist.
And he had been so unprepared to hear those words, he didn’t know how to respond. While a part of him felt as if she was just being kind, another part of Victor held the rare compliment close to his heart. Just thinking back on the genuine nature of her voice made a smile stretch his cheeks.
Her compliment had solidified his decision to give her his phone number. Victor doesn’t know when he realized it exactly, but he didn’t want to go three weeks without talking to her. Their witty banter, her passionate rants and dramatic stories of her daily life, had become the highlight of his week.
So they texted as well. Which Victor enjoyed deeply. When he read her messages, he could almost hear her voice saying them out loud.
They fell into the routine of texting daily. Wanda had told him it was “boxing season”, and sent him pictures of the gym she went to, which appeared to be an old-fashioned, local gym. She would either bemoan or celebrate her matches against her sparring partner, Natasha, with whom she held a fierce rivalry but strong friendship.
She also texted him pictures of her pets - a scruffy, orange cat with a chipped ear and one white paw named Sock, and a big, chocolate brown dog named Barnaby. She would frequently relax with Sock on her lap while watching her favorite tv shows, or take Barnaby outside for walks and roughhousing out on her lawn.
This was something else that had surprised him - her house. While Victor knew everyone at the academy (minus himself; he had a scholarship) came from wealth, Wanda presented herself in such a casual, unassuming manner that didn’t flaunt her money, so the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. But in the background of her pictures, he could tell. From the polished, tile floors, to the huge flat screen TV in the background, and the giant expanse of her lawn, perfectly manicured with landscaping and white-brick columns around the front of her house - she had to be rich. But she never brought up her money, so Victor never commented on it.
One day early on in winter break, Wanda texted him throughout the evening about a trip to the mall and movies with Darcy and Monica. Though she seemed to hold a distaste for clothes shopping, so she texted Victor during that segment of the trip. After a late dinner, she went to see a horror movie with them - the final showing for the night, and it wouldn’t end until one am. Wanda promised to text him how the movie was afterwards, and he replied by telling her he intended to hold her to that promise.
A little past one, Victor was laying in bed, the flashlight of his phone illuminating his book as he read. He found reading helped him to fall asleep at night, but couldn’t read in the dark. Turning on too bright of a light would notify his father, so he used his phone under the cover of his blanket to illuminate the pages.
Checking the time, Victor saw some missed notifications from Wanda, and eagerly opened the messages.
1:15am
Just got out of the movie, otw home
It was pretty good. Horror movies don’t scare me too much, but Darcy and Monica were terrified, which was better entertainment than the movie itself!
1:20am
You still up??
Must’ve fallen asleep. Cute~
I’ll tell you more about it tmr. Nite!
Victor shut off his phone and held it against his quickly beating heart, fueled by the sudden surge of adrenaline from reading her message.
Wanda had just called him cute.
He smiled up at the ceiling in disbelief, his cheeks red hot, ears burning. No one had ever called him cute before, let alone a girl as pretty as Wanda.
That was the moment Victor knew. He liked her as more than a friend.
He had a crush on her.
And while he dreaded those nervous moments between them, where he worried he’d do or say something wrong, when time slowed to a crawl, as if the world was holding its breath, the universe enraptured by her heavy-lidded, molasses-coated gazes, sticky sweet, gluing his lips shut, slowly sliding down his throat, filling up his lungs, taking away his ability to open his mouth or breathe, moments like this, where the lack of oxygen from her intoxicating sweetness filling him up made him dizzy with happiness…
It was all so, so worth it.
Victor decided to wait until tomorrow to respond, wanting to hold on to her words for as long as he could, a twinge of self-doubt that she might recant them if he gave her the chance.
He fell asleep thinking about how it would sound to hear her call him that.
Cute.
—
A couple weeks into winter break, their final grades had been released online, something Victor had anxiously awaited. But despite his anxiety, he was relieved to see he’d managed to secure straight As again, just as planned. Ultron may extend him some leniency as Christmas grew closer, and the thought excited him.
But that same day, Victor couldn’t help but notice that Wanda had yet to text him that day. Which was strange. It was already 4pm, and the latest she slept in was noon. She usually texted him good morning, but so far, nothing. Maybe she was busy? It was a bit demanding of him to expect her attention every day. And yet… he couldn’t help but worry. So he texted her.
4:36pm
Hey, are you awake?
Unfortunately.
What’ve you been up to today?
Nm. You?
Victor chewed on his bottom lip as he read her messages. She usually didn’t send him such curt messages. Something felt off.
4:38pm
Well, you know me. Nothing very interesting tends to go on in my life.
Are you feeling alright?
I’ve felt better.
What’s wrong?
I don’t know if it's worth talking about.
That threw him for a loop. Wanda was usually assertive and confident in conversation, in herself. Victor didn’t know she was capable of sounding so… insecure. It made him chew the inside of his cheek with worry as he contemplated what to say. Should he press her to talk? Or was Wanda trying to indicate that she didn’t want to discuss it?
4:41 pm
Well… if it’s making you feel bad, it’s probably important. I would be willing to listen.
Plenty of stuff makes me feel bad, so I wouldn’t use how I feel as an indicator of importance. But… alright. I guess I’m just feeling down because of my grades. I didn’t do as well as I would’ve liked.
Victor’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Wanda was brilliant in all of her classes. How could she have gotten bad grades? As curious as he was to hear why, he concluded that question wouldn’t make her feel better, so he avoided asking it.
4:44pm
I’m sorry to hear that. I know all too well how brutal the academy can be about grades. But you should be able to balance it out with next semester
Why would next semester be any different than this one? I’ll probably just make the same mistakes I always do. Disappoint myself and my parents again
Wanda, I don’t understand. What do you mean?
Idk if I should talk about this
Please tell me. Maybe I can help?
No. You can’t help me.
The truth is I’m depressed. Have been for a long time now
While I’m usually smart enough to get by, I struggle to complete the work. Sometimes I get really tired and numb and can’t do anything but sleep. Other times, I get really upset and can only cry
All of that useless shit takes up time and energy, and can get in the way of schoolwork. So I end up turning stuff in late, not studying enough, etc
Which just makes me hate myself more, y’know? How much of a loser I am for being smart enough to complete the work but not doing it. I’m letting myself and my parents down, fucking up my own future
Victor’s heart sinks lower into his stomach with every text he reads from her.
Wanda… hates herself?
The thought makes him hurt. A lot.
There was no reason for her to hate herself. She’s smart, does well in school, is outgoing, able to talk to just about anyone with ease, she’s kind, considerate, and passionate, driven, and she’s pretty, so, so pretty. She didn’t need to hate herself, didn’t deserve to feel that way.
He thought back on all the time they’d spent together, her teasing him in chemistry, studying together, texting over break. She never seemed sad, or as if she didn’t like herself. The only thing Victor had noticed was… how tired she was all the time.
Guilt itched under his skin, causing him to scratch the back of his neck as he breathed out a sigh. Wanda wasn’t just tired - it was the depression. She’d been hiding it all these months, and he hadn’t noticed.
Victor’s skin continued to prickle with guilt as he rubbed the palm of his other hand into his right eye, trying to make sense of all of this. Trying to push aside the guilt, to focus. Figure out how he could help her.
4:55pm
Sorry for dumping all of that on you. Didn’t mean to overwhelm you
Please don’t apologize. I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with all of this. I didn’t know you felt that way
You don’t have to apologize either. I hadn’t really planned on you finding out.
Planned on him finding out? How long had she intended to hide this from him? Victor shook the thought away, not letting himself go down that train of thought right now. Focus on helping her, Victor. Focus.
It seemed like his whole being instinctively responded to her pain.
He’d never felt before - an intense wildfire burning in his chest. Fueling the beat of his heart, the breath of his lungs fanning the flames. His heart didn’t beat faster, but stronger, with more purpose, pushing against his rib cage, threatening to break out in its quiet fury. The fire spread through his body and mind, setting every nerve in him alight, tensed in preparation to take action. If he spoke, Victor was sure the flames would lick up his throat and burst out of him. So he set his jaw, keeping it all in, the smoky tendrils of the fire wrapping around his thoughts, taking control.
He so desperately wanted to help her. Protect her. Do anything so she could feel better. The thought of her feeling so low… terrified and consumed him. All Victor could think was that she didn’t deserve it.
Wanda had been the one insistent and stubborn enough to be his friend. Despite how hard he’d tried to push everyone away, she hadn’t given up on him. And he began to remember what friendship felt like. Victor wanted her to feel the same way he did. He wasn’t sure what he could do… but he had to try. He had to.
4:58pm
You don’t have to apologize for how you feel, Wanda. Just know that I don’t hate you. You’re my best and only friend. You could never disappoint me no matter what grades you get
I know how terrifying getting bad grades can be. I’d be willing to help you in any way I can next semester. We usually only do chemistry, but I can help in your other classes too
That’s alright. I know you’re busy enough with your own classes, and I already take up enough of your time as it is
I want to help you. Please let me
Geez, so pushy. You’re stubborn all of a sudden
Wanda, please
Alright, fine. If it’ll make you feel better
Victor let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his gut swirling with anxiety, the sour smoke from his internal fire upsetting his stomach.
He may not be able to cure her depression, but he could at least help her with school. It was the one thing he was good at, the one way he could help her.
He just hoped it would be enough.