A week had passed. A week of controlled words, shared silences, glances exchanged without the need for answers.Maëlys was now part of the group. No promise, no announcement. She was simply there, every morning. She walked at our pace, sat at our table, took the same bus. She didn't talk much, but she listened to everything. And sometimes, she smiled at something Hypnos said as if she had already heard it, in a dream.
Today, for the first time since the start of term, we had P.E.First period. Destination: the gym. We walked across the back courtyard in an uneven line. Hypnos led the way, his sports bag thumping against his hip at every step. He whistled a tune that probably only existed in his head. On his right, Héméra moved straight, calm, hands folded behind her back, as if she were going to a ceremony rather than an endurance class. Maëlys, hanging back, kept her eyes on her feet, her fingers clenched around her jacket zipper.I walked last. Not to watch. But because at the back is where you avoid the most interference.
The gym, visible from the path, stood out against the still-pale sky. A functional structure, without charm, built to contain noise, sweat, and effort too visible.Groups had already formed in front of the entrance. Loud laughter. Sneaker comparisons. Teasing about shorts too short or sweatpants too wide.When we arrived, the conversations slowed. Not stopped. Just slowed. Some greeted us. Hypnos answered with a wave. Héméra with a nod. Maëlys pulled herself tighter against her bag. And I stayed at exactly the same distance.
"The thing about P.E.," murmured Hypnos, "is that it's the only subject where the body has to do everything the mind refuses."
Héméra smiled."Did you at least study?" she asked."I slept in leggings, does that count?"
Maëlys gave a faint smile.She didn't speak. But her eyes flicked between him and me, as if trying to figure out how each of us would react once inside the arena.
The gym doors opened. And as always, we entered together. The smell of the locker room was the same as always: a mix of old damp, cheap deodorant, and plastic heated by bodies.The chatter ran on, ordinary, unsurprising. Until we walked in.
Hypnos went first, me behind him. He was half-smiling, as if he had already forgotten why we were there. I set my bag by the wall, crouched to open it. My movements were mechanical, unhurried. When I stood to take off my shirt, silence had already settled.The kind of silence no one admits to, but everyone feels.
The boys in the locker room hadn't stopped talking. Not really. But their voices turned blurrier, lower, as if the air had thickened.They were watching us. Some whispered discreetly, from the corner of their eye. Others more openly, not even bothering to hide it.
Hypnos took off his shirt with nonchalance, like he was moving in slow motion. He pulled on his sports tee the way someone slips into a suit: no hesitation, no strain.Our silhouettes didn't need effort to unsettle. Athletic bodies, cut without excess. No muscle overblown. No movement overstated. A natural balance. The kind that disturbs more by being obvious than by comparison.
A boy sitting on the bench, elbows on his knees, muttered:"Shit… even in shorts, that's not fair."
Another said louder, to hide his discomfort:"Seriously, do you guys have an IRL filter or what?"
Hypnos smiled slightly, said nothing.I didn't react. The jokes became fewer. A few muffled laughs. Many silences cut short. And then, without warning, the group started leaving. One by one. Some still tying their laces, others tugging at sleeves too tight. But all of them left the locker room without another word.
When the door closed behind the last one, Hypnos exhaled:"You scare off crowds, dear brother."
I lowered my eyes to my wrists, adjusted the fabric, and replied:"I put them face to face with what they don't like to name."
He smiled again."You don't need a warm-up. Your tongue's already sharp."
Then he stood smoothly, and cast me that look of his, dreamy and conspiratorial at once."Come on. Let's go remind them beauty doesn't sweat."
And we left, last.
The girls' locker room rang with familiar noise: zippers yanked too fast, laughter in cascades, fabric crumpling in hurried hands. It was livelier than the boys', no doubt. But less tense. More scattered. Like a noisy river without a deep current.
Each girl set up in her territory, more or less wide depending on confidence. Some spoke loudly. Others changed with their backs to the group. And me, I observed.Here, the body wasn't just a tool. It became a surface of comparison, of judgment, or of forgetting. A stage of daily gestures, where each one knew, deep down, that nothing was ever truly trivial.
Zoé, true to herself, was already changed. Cropped tee, regulation shorts, high ponytail. She laughed, tossed comments about the weather or the slippery floor, but each word seemed to land with strange precision. She didn't occupy space. She shaped it. Eyes landed on her—not by order. By nature.
I dressed in silence. No makeup today. No jewelry. Just the P.E. uniform. White tee, black shorts. But I knew my gestures were clear. I knew what my straight back and calm shoulders could provoke. It wasn't deliberate. It was fact.
"It's almost unfair how beautiful you are."Zoé's voice beside me, steady. Not jealous. Not admiring either. Just a truth, spoken without filter.
Another girl, Élina I think, added with a laugh:"Héméra is like… the elegance of a classical painting."
"Even her tee looks whiter than mine," sighed Ayaka, mock-dramatic.
I smiled softly. I never laugh at that kind of remark. It would only make them bigger than they are.
Farther off, Maëlys had chosen silence as her clothing. Slightly too-large black sweatpants. Tee still under the jacket she hadn't dared to take off. She had changed with her back to the others, quick, efficient. Her hands didn't shake. But everything about her said: don't look at me.
No one mocked her. Not today. But I saw the glances. Light. Floating. That quiet incomprehension reserved for those who seek neither to seduce nor to vanish.Zoé, passing by her, slowed slightly. Just enough for Maëlys to feel it. She didn't say a word. But in that simple slowing, she gave her a place. A real one.
And Ayaka laughed louder."Rômanella, I swear, if you jump into that tee, I'm giving up.""I didn't ask for this body!" protested Rômanella, trying to pull on her top without too much movement."Want me to help?" Ayaka offered, mock-innocent.
She pretended to reach toward her friend's generous chest."That's a cheat code! Look at those warheads!"
Rômanella burst out laughing, embarrassed but not angry. She snapped an elastic at her. Ayaka dodged it just in time.Élina giggled, pulling up her socks:"We're going to need censorship in here, I swear."
I watched all this calmly. It was a chaotic ballet, but familiar. Girls testing, comparing, brushing each other with glances, sometimes words, sometimes fingertips. There was no cruelty today. Just… the natural mechanics of a group.
I left them to their games of balance. Then I closed my bag. And slowly, I left the locker room.
The corridor wasn't wide. Maëlys followed in small steps. She kept her head down, jacket still zipped despite the heat. But she didn't run. She walked. That was already something.The others followed at a distance, their voices still full of locker-room laughter.
"You're very pretty, you know," I said softly.
She flinched. Then lowered her eyes. I didn't insist. But I added, lower, like a secret:"And someone noticed."
She turned her head slightly. Not toward me. Forward. Hypnos was waiting at the gym entrance, casually leaning against the wall, arms crossed. He wasn't smiling.But he was watching. Just enough for Maëlys to understand.
She blushed. Stepped back half a step. Then lied, badly:"That's… that's not true."
I smiled."A little red on your cheeks is cute."
She didn't answer. But she straightened. Just enough for me to know my words had landed.And we joined them.
I took my place beside Hypnos, as always. Thanatos was already there, a few steps back. Straight. Cold. Indecipherable.Maëlys slipped in behind me. Not quite beside me. But not far. She was there.And for her, that small detail… was already a victory.
The gym light was whiter than that of the classrooms. Harsh. Frank. It fell from the neon tubes in rigid lines, leaving no shadow to hide in.I felt the glances before they even turned.
The girls entered in small groups. Loud. Alive. Their voices ricocheted off the bare walls, paced by the sharp clap of their soles on the polished floor.I didn't raise my eyes. Not yet. But I already knew. The muffled giggles. The whispers slipped between breaths. That way teenagers have of commenting without owning it.
"Hypnos, seriously… even his stretch looks like an ad.""And Thanatos… it's like he's scanning us.""Are you crazy? Exactly! He's got that look… I don't know, like a noir novel hero."
Hypnos smiled. Not at anyone. Just into the air. He stretched lazily, arms over his head, as if floating in a dream. He did it on purpose. Without ever admitting it.Me, I stayed still. I listened to the silence between words. I noted who spoke. Who didn't. Who looked. And who pretended not to.
Farther away, the boys had gathered. For them, the surprise was different. First time they'd seen the girls in shorts and tees. No more neat uniforms.
"Dude, look at Rômanella… I can't, she's a nuclear weapon.""Pfft, forget that, did you see Zoé? Even in a loose tee, she gives off something…""For real. She's got that strange charisma. Like… she knows she's being watched.""Yeah but Héméra too. Look at her move, doesn't it feel like everything slows down?""Shit… the two of them together, it's too much. Give us a chance to survive high school.""I'm telling you, they'll be ruling over the second-years by the end of the term."
Voices mixed, glances flew. Two fires crossing, two worlds spying on each other.And us, in the middle.
The teacher's circle was already forming. His heavy steps echoed like a worn-out mechanism. His voice followed soon after."Alright. Good morning everyone," he said, clapping his hands. "I'm Mr. Derval. I hope you like sweating, because we won't be spending the year just walking in circles."
He wore a black tracksuit and a stopwatch around his neck. Forties, well-kept. Balding, unapologetic. Firm voice but not aggressive. The type who might've been military or firefighter. He didn't need to raise his tone to be listened to.
"Today we'll start easy. A bit of volleyball. No fixed teams for now. We'll rotate."
Excited or resigned murmurs ran through the class.
"Don't panic, this isn't the Olympics. We're here to work on coordination, not to turn you into professional athletes."
Zoé spun her lollipop from side to side. Héméra barely raised an eyebrow. Hypnos crouched to tie his laces, slowly, as if the world would wait.
Further away, I heard Ayaka snicker."I swear, Rômanella, you'd better be careful. One too-sharp chest move and you'll knock some guy out on the other side of the court."
Rômanella rolled her eyes, but her smile showed she wasn't offended."Too bad for him. He should've been watching the ball."
"Can you imagine? 'Sir, I can't play, I got hit by the curve of my classmate.'"
Élina doubled over laughing."Weapon of mass distraction, I tell you!"
Rômanella tried to hide her blush by tightening her hairband.But I saw. I always see.
Maëlys, in the back, squeezed her wrist with her fingers, eyes fixed on her shoes. She didn't like moments like this. Too many voices. Too many gestures. Too many bodies.I knew she didn't like to play.But she stayed. Present. And that alone was remarkable.
Mr. Derval clapped once."Come on, line up in two columns. We'll start with a few passes. Don't panic, those who suck at volleyball might have a shot at badminton."
I didn't move. Not yet. But soon, we would have to step onto the court.And in that rectangle of white lines, everything mixed: strength, balance, judgment. P.E. wasn't a game. It was an exposure.
The gym floor shone slightly under the pale neon lights. White lines crisscrossed, marking out a court that students always ended up ignoring. The air smelled of plastic, of the ball, of old sweat.The teacher—Mr. Derval, his voice carrying effortlessly—gave a few orders without lifting his eyes from his sheet.
"Two teams. We're playing volleyball. Free level. And no drama. Anyone who doesn't participate steps out."
Not another word.
He picked a few groups, formed teams without real logic. A handful of seniors and first-years had settled in the bleachers, just to watch.
The ball bounced once. Already, the chatter began.
"Is Zoé here?""She's the one with the green streaks, there. She's everywhere lately.""Dude, even in shorts, she's got style…""She knows everyone, you can't beat that."
She laughed loud, hanging on the shoulder of Adam, a tall guy in the class, catching a ball effortlessly, throwing quips, dodging compliments with well-practiced ease. She filled the space. A voice, a movement, a scene all on her own.
But despite all the noise, some glances shifted. Drifted from the center. And slid.Toward Héméra.
She hadn't raised her voice. She didn't smile more than usual. And yet, she drew eyes like a quiet flame in the fog.
"Who's the blonde over there?""Héméra.""She doesn't talk, but… wow. She's like a painting.""She's got something sacred. Like… you don't even dare imagine approaching her."
They weren't saying anything wrong. But they were saying too much.
I didn't move. But every word they spoke resonated under my skin. Their voices tried to define what they had no right to touch.These words weren't just observations. They carried intentions. And I felt a string tighten under my skin.
I'm not possessive. But Héméra is not an image you comment on from the bleachers like a poster in a locker room.
I turned slightly. My eyes met those of a senior boy.He fell silent. Immediately.
Rômanella, meanwhile, drew other comments.
"You see her?""She's basically armored with curves.""You mean… armed. A weapon. Weapon of mass destruction, yeah."
She was stretching, calmly. Her movements had a natural ease, but everyone's eyes followed her as if she were battling gravity alone. She didn't seem to seek it. She had just accepted it.
"Honestly, even I struggle not to stare," whispered a senior."Does she play it up?""Not really. That's the worst part."
And then Ayaka, never one to hold back, called out with a giggle:"Hey Rôma, better not jump too high… some people might take mental damage!"
"It's not my fault if guys can't handle 3D," she replied with a laugh, a little red.
Nothing vulgar. But everything was said.I showed nothing. But I heard everything.
Maëlys, in the back, was stretching her wrists without speaking. She had kept her jacket on. Oversized black sweats. A deliberate contrast. And she knew why.
Then a ball was thrown. One exchange. Two. Then… a bad pass. Too high. Too fast.Zoé should have caught it. But she was turning her head, too caught up in a comment about her shoes—or just about herself.A boy's voice was talking about her legs. She smiled. Laughed—but didn't see the ball. She had her back turned. A banal mistake. But enough to hurt.
I barely moved a centimeter. I just raised my hand. The ball smacked into my palm with a dry, dull sound. I let it drop. It rolled on the floor, docile.
Zoé froze. She met my gaze. Her smile wanted to be light, but betrayed a short imbalance."Oops… saved by Thanatos."
I fixed my eyes on her."You talk too much."
My voice hadn't risen. But it cut through the air. Just enough.
"If you want to be watched so badly, at least don't give them an humiliation to enjoy."
She wanted to answer. I turned on my heel. She stayed silent. A half-second of tense silence. I didn't look back. I didn't need to.
The game resumed, timid. Quieter. As if even the ball hesitated to slice through the air too violently.
Hypnos, further away, smiled faintly. Dreamy. But filled with calm approval.Héméra gave me a brief look. She didn't disapprove. She knew. She had seen.As for Maëlys, she had jumped when I stopped the ball. Now, she was sneaking glances at me. Trying to understand.But there was nothing to understand. I don't play at being liked. I'm here. To watch. To cut away what spills over. Even if I cut too sharply.
At last, the day came to an end. The air had cooled, and the rays of the sun filtered between the branches, casting long shadows on the school walls. Under the old shelter, a little apart, we were there. As always.
Hypnos sat on the stone ledge, swinging one leg lazily, eyelids half-closed, dreamy.Héméra, straight beside him, calmly adjusted her bag strap.Maëlys stood a little back, her notebook clutched against her as if she wanted it invisible.Me, I leaned against the metal pillar, arms crossed, saying nothing.
And that's when Zoé arrived.
She showed up the way she entered everywhere: without warning, but never harshly. Just enough to be noticed. She still had a lollipop in her mouth and her hands behind her back."You always have this cult-like silent vibe, or is it just after class?" she asked with a grin.
"It's the hour when shadows grow long and words take their rest," Hypnos replied without moving.
Zoé blinked, smirking."You always talk like some poetry book forgotten in an attic?"
Hypnos smiled, eyes closed."Only when silence deserves an image."
Zoé shook her head, amused, then turned toward me. This time, more directly."I wanted to say something, Thanatos."
She didn't step closer. She stayed at a distance, but straight. Frank."I'm not here to apologize. Not really. But I got what you said. And I felt it."
She pulled her lollipop out between two fingers."People let me talk. They watch me. Or they ignore me. But almost no one puts me in my place. And never without raising their voice. So yeah. Thanks for that. Even if you sounded like a guillotine."
I didn't reply. But I looked at her. And she knew.
"I won't change. But I'll try not to drown out people like you with my noise."
She smiled, this time without provocation."I guess that's a kind of truce."
She was about to leave when she stopped herself."Oh. And you, dreamer…"She shot a look at Hypnos."Stop throwing out overly poetic lines when I'm trying to be serious."
"I can't help it," Hypnos said. "The images fall on me."
"Then catch them in silence, poet."
She laughed, this time genuinely, and walked away with a spring in her step.
Silence settled back gently.
Maëlys exhaled, more to herself than to us:"She talks loud. But she really listens."
Héméra nodded, a light smile at the corner of her lips.And me, I stayed there. In the same place.
✅ Voilà, tout ton chapitre 5 en anglais complet et prêt pour Webnovel.