And Therefore Is Wing'd Cupid Painted Blind

Age 10

Rogue Cheney has always been somewhat of a loner. He prefers it that way; to not be distracted by the other people around him. He likes to keep to himself; his thoughts are the only thing he needs to keep himself company, well and the fact that no one really seems to take much notice of him. It’s a constant daily struggle to make sure he keeps out of the other kid’s way, all of them too focused on themselves to notice that he’s there, even after they bump in to him. He’s not much of a talker, he always thought if he had a friend, just one, he would be an excellent listener, keen to maybe even hand out some advice if necessary. Unfortunately he’s never been given the chance.

Sting Eucliffe, not the most popular guy in the crowd but everybody knows his name. Perhaps the jokester is a better way of describing him. Always eager to make someone laugh, to make someone pay attention to him. He likes to see people smile. So energetic and full of life, his cocky persona suits him well. He’s the complete polar opposite of Rogue; it’s no wonder Sting’s never given him a second glance.



Something about the day felt different to Rogue. He couldn’t explain the feeling; it was just that, a feeling. As if some event might happen that could change the course he is currently on. He wanders through his day hugging the wall so he doesn’t get tripped; his backpack held close to him so it doesn’t get zipped open for the amusement of his peers. He’d had woken up this morning more hopeful than he usually did. A feeling had hung in the air around him, something he wasn’t entirely sure of. But now half way through the long school day he was growing tired, that feeling he had when he’d first work up, the feeling that followed him around up until now was quickly dissipating, leaving Rogue feeling weary.

The last period of the day always seems to drag by; Rogue was never very interested in history. Most students were rowdy and it took all the self-restraint the teachers had to not smack the kids and make them sit in their seats, instead opting for a less physical approach by evenly threatening the students with detention after school if they continued to misbehave. Rogue sits in the second row from the back in the chair against the wall just like he usually does. No one sat in the chair next to him, scared of being called a loser for being associated with him. He didn’t really mind, for Rogue this meant there were no distractions and he could pass the time counting the minutes left on the clock until he could go home.

Half way through class he feels something lightly hit his back between his shoulder blades. The object is ignored, thinking that it was just a mistake made by one of the students behind him. He goes back to the sketch he was focusing on in front of him. A minute later there’s a finger tapping on his left shoulder, and for a second shocked at someone noticing him Rogue tenses up, his eyes bulging slightly as he sits rigid. A second later he remembers someone had thrown something at his back and thinks that the person is going to ask if he can pick it up and hand it to the person’s friend. He shrugs his left shoulder slightly trying to shake the hand off but the person is insistent.

“Hey short fry,” the guy whispers quietly, still tapping lightly on Rogue’s shoulder.

A small battle takes place within Rogue’s head, part of him demanding he turn around, the other part telling him that it’s a prank being played on him and to just continue with his drawing. Rogue’s insecurities win out and he doesn’t turn around.

“Are you ignoring me?” The voice whispers again, a slight chuckle in his voice.

Against everything in Rogue telling him to continue ignoring it, he slowly turns his head to face the annoyance behind him. He immediately sees none other than blonde haired Sting Eucliffe practically lying on his desk looking right at Rogue with a grin plastered on his face. Rogue immediately ducks his head letting his long fringe fall over his face as he blushes at the attention. Why is Sting Eucliffe talking to him of all people?

“Hey, are you new here?” Sting whispers again, and everything in Rogue drops. Why had he been expecting anything else?

Rogue looks up again slowly, his cheeks still slightly pink. “Wh- What?”

Sting doesn’t seem fazed. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. Is today your first day?”

Rogue shouldn’t be surprised that Sting had never seen him before, why would someone like him pay Rogue a second thought? He’s invisible after all.

“N-No.” Rogue manages to stutter out.

Sting’s forehead scrunches up slightly as he tries to remember invisible Rogue. He opens his mouth to reply when the teacher interrupts.

“Can you two be quite back there! If you hadn’t noticed I’m trying to teach a class. Now either listen or spend your afternoon in detention.”

Rogue quickly turns back to the front of class and sinks into his seat. Sting stays in his position for a few more seconds silently challenging the teacher before falling back with a thud against his chair, tapping his pen against the table, impatiently waiting for the last few minutes of class to go by. This guy intrigues him.



Rogue silently walks down the school corridor; he was quick to get out of the class so he didn’t embarrass himself in front of Sting again. He’s almost at his locker when he once again feels someone tapping on his shoulder, caught off guard he stumbles over his own feet. The hand clamps down on his shoulder firmly, keeping him from falling.

“Did I frighten you?” Sting’s amused voice sounds in Rogue’s ear.

He stands up quickly, Sting’s hand falls off of his shoulder, once again grinning at him. Rogue continues to stare.

“You don’t talk very much do you?” he asks casually leaning himself against the row of lockers.

“I ah-. Uh, no.” Rogue manages to get out, hanging his head to avoid embarrassment. Something he seemed to find himself doing a lot of today.

Sting’s leaning right on Rogue’s locker and he wasn’t sure how to go about politely asking him to move.

“Huh. Well what’s your name not-so-new kid?” he asks curiously.

“Uh, Rogue Cheney.” He says, surprised that Sting was actually interested in talking to him.

Sting studies him for a minute; his eyes roam over Rogue’s face before looking at the rest of him. With a huge grin spread across his face, Sting sticks his hand out between them. Rogue extends his hand slowly; still half convinced that Sting is playing a prank on him. Their hands connect and his doubts slowly melt away as Sting’s hand grips his tightly.

“Well Rogue Cheney, I’m Sting Eucliffe. Nice to meet you.”