It was another day in Westemonte High School; the sky was clouded, but it wasn't raining, and the sun was hidden behind the white puffs, although its light shone through nonetheless.
The grass was wet with last night's rain, and little droplets fell from the leaves of trees. The breeze carried with it the scent of newly formed dew, a summer that was soon to be, and the slightly salty smell of the ocean that was not too far away.
Alas, one other scent mingled with the others.
That of freshly baked pastries.
For today was the school's yearly bake sale; students would spend the days before preparing their own foods, and then they would sell them.
40% of all sales would go towards charities of the majority's choosing, while 10% would go towards the school, and the last 50% would go towards the students who made the dishes.
And today, the boy known for his emotionless exterior wandered around, simply taking everything in.
As usual he was wearing his gray sweater; it matched his gray hair, and his gray eyes.
He had his hands in his pockets, and his steps were calm but focused. He wasn't in much of any rush; if anything, he had all the time in the world he could ever want.
He walked past a nearby stall, and despite the air being filled with hundreds of other voices, he could hear the people in there talking about him very clearly.
They were whispering to each other about how Sterling Stallard had come to the event. Usually, he avoided things like these- for the most part, he would spend these free school days at the nearby military base, training with the soldiers and such. Sometimes it would also give him a chance to talk with his parents; they were in the military, and due to that, they were moving around places all the time.
But, sadly, due to his military upbringing, many people at school avoided him. He was fairly scary, especially if one was to see him spar with a marine. He was skilled enough to win a hand-to-hand match against a soldier, and his aim was almost as good.
Sterling simply had no other hobbies; it allowed him to focus on his physical prowess. Not that he was lacking in the brains department; he made it a point to read and understand all kinds of high-grade stuff.
Then he finally stopped at a stall and stared down at the pastries on the table; the smell was enticing, to say the least.
Manning the stall was one of Sterling's classmates, Svetlana, or Sveta for short.
She was of Russian descent; born to an American father and a Russian mother. Not only that, but she got the best of both worlds; her father's golden eyes, and her mother's skin tone and accent.
Yet, somewhat surprisingly, she had red hair. Sterling, who had never bothered to find out why or how, found that the most unique part of her.
He very much towered over Sveta, being nearly 6'5; he had to lean down just to get a good look at the pastries.
Sergeant Bernard likes pumpkin pie... Sterling thought before pointing at the pies that were assembled on the table, calmly asking, "Do you have any pumpkin pies?"
In all honesty, this was the only reason for why he was here- he felt like getting his friends, soldiers who were years older than him, some of the foods they liked.
There was silence for a little while before Sveta just gave a nod, put a pumpkin pie in a box, and handed it to Sterling.
No other words were exchanged except for a mumbled "goodbye" from her and a "thank you" from him.
=--=--=--=
Sveta blankly stared after Sterling as he walked away, and she died inside.
She had half a mind to just bang her head against a wall while her brain screamed "stupid stupid stupid!" at her on the highest volume a mental voice could have.
The only word. She had said to him. Was goodbye.
What was wrong with her. She couldn't even speak to the boy regarded as emotionless. She couldn't even speak to the boy she liked.
Once again. What. Was. Wrong. With. Her.
Her sight of Sterling was quickly obscured when some more customers came over and asked for a couple pastries... at least her throat didn't close up at them.
=--=--=--=
Sterling didn't bother looking around at what other people would consider "beautiful scenery" as he walked back to the base, box in hand.
To him, it wasn't much of any importance. That was how he thought; things of importance, like physical health, mental stability, efficiency, all that took priority. Scenery, social status, riches- he didn't care for that.
If he had enough money to keep himself going, he would be perfectly fine. If he had a small friend circle of those he genuinely cared about, he would be perfectly fine. Even if he had only a desert to look at, he would be perfectly fine.
He then turned right and walked towards the guard station that faced the road that led into the base; he didn't have to flash any I.D, the guy there already knew him.
Sterling did have a fairly memorable look...
He had barely taken two steps into the base when he was surrounded by his soldier buddies; he would be lying if he said they didn't come for a literal piece of the pie.
"Sterling! You got us anything?"
"Ooh, pie."
"Smells like pumpkin."
Sterling tiredly stared at everyone, and when there was finally a break, he spoke. "This is for Sergeant Bernard. If you wanted food, you could've asked."
He then walked past everyone with that straight emotionless face of his, which left them all laughing.
If anything, they found it funny.
Sterling passed by a couple of HUMVEEs and trucks and other military hardware on his way to the Sergeant's office. Most of the other soldiers were on their daily run; instinctively, he turned to join in but then remembered the box he had in his arms and his original objective.
Resuming course, he reached the office in no time.
Opening the door with one hand and holding the box of pie in the other, Sterling entered to see Bernard with his boots kicked up on the desk and his arms crossed over his chest, his hat covering his eyes.
He was sleeping.
Nonetheless, Sterling quietly set the box done on the desk and exited, closing the door softly behind him as to not disturb the Sergeant from his rest.
The man deserved the sleep.
Surprisingly, that was when Private Yale walked up to him.
"Hey, Sterling. There's some girl at the front gate asking for ya." Yale smirked and and raised an eyebrow before he walked away, leaving Sterling slightly confused.
Someone was asking for him...? Why?
Well, it didn't matter right now. He'd best to get this over with.
=--=--=--=
It took him barely 30 seconds to reach the gate, and when he did, he easily recognized the person there.
Red hair.
Golden eyes he could notice from miles away.
Svetlana.
She was standing right at the office, practically biting her fingernails. Her eyes moved about a little frantically before landing on Sterling, where they followed him without pause.
"Hey, Sveta. How're you?" Sterling spoke plainly; he wasn't interested in the conversation, much less the reason behind why she came here.
"...good. You?" Sveta replied, shifting awkwardly on her feet while she crossed her arms over her chest.
While she avoided eye contact with Sterling, he made it a point to look into her very soul.
"I'm doing fine. If I may, what are you here for?"
[TEMPORARY END]