Chapter Text
Jack stepped forward as the auditorium settled into silence.
Not quiet.
Silence.
The kind that fell instantly, unnaturally fast, like someone had cut the sound from the room with a knife.
Dennis shifted slightly in his seat.
Beside him, Trinity leaned back casually, though her posture had gone noticeably straighter.
Jack Abbot rested one hand lightly against the podium.
“Good evening, students.”
His voice carried easily through the massive auditorium without needing much help from the microphone. Smooth. Deep. Calm in a way that almost felt practiced.
“Welcome back to another year at St. Abbots Academy.”
A few students clapped politely.
Jack smiled faintly.
“For our returning students, welcome home.”
Something about the way he said home made Dennis’s shoulders tense.
“And for our first years…” Jack’s eyes swept slowly across the crowd.
Then paused.
Directly on Dennis.
“For those still adjusting,” he continued smoothly, “I understand St. Abbots can feel… overwhelming at first.”
Dennis swallowed.
Jack’s gaze lingered half a second longer before moving on.
“This academy is old. Older than most institutions in this country. Older than some nations.”
A few students laughed softly.
“We value tradition here.” Jack folded his hands behind his back. “Discipline. Excellence. Loyalty.”
The word loyalty echoed strangely in Dennis’s head.
“At St. Abbots, you will be challenged academically, personally, and emotionally.”
“But growth,” Jack continued, “often requires discomfort.”
The auditorium stayed completely still.
“No one arrives here unchanged.”
Something cold settled low in Dennis’s stomach.
Jack smiled again then, softer this time.
“Some of you came searching for opportunity.”
His eyes flicked briefly across the audience.
“Some for purpose.”
Another pause.
“And some of you arrived here because, somewhere deep down…” His voice lowered slightly. “You felt called.”
Dennis’s heartbeat stumbled strangely hard against his ribs.
The bells from his dreams flashed through his mind suddenly.
Loud, heavy, and ancient.
Jack tilted his head almost thoughtfully.
“And I feel, St. Abbots has always answered those who come looking.”
The room stayed silent for a second too long afterward.
Then applause erupted across the auditorium.
Dennis didn’t clap immediately.
Because for one impossible second,
it had felt less like a welcome speech…
and more like a foreshadowing.
~~~
After the applause finally dies down, Abbot steps forward once more.
“Well,” he says smoothly, hands folding behind his back, “I believe that concludes my portion of the evening.”
A few students laugh softly.
Abbot smiles faintly before turning slightly toward the man beside him.
“I’ll now hand things over to Mr. Robby, who will be reminding everyone of our academy rules.” His expression sharpens just slightly. “Rules that, over the past few years, have unfortunately not always been properly heeded.”
Something about the wording makes Dennis sit up a little straighter.
Abbot steps away from the podium.
The taller man beside him moves forward instead.
Robby adjusts the microphone downward before greeting the auditorium with a calm,
“Good evening, students.”
He pulls a pair of reading glasses from a leather case and slides them onto his face before looking down at what appears to be an incredibly old book resting atop the podium.
The cover looks worn nearly smooth with age.
“This title book,” Robby says evenly, “is quite old now, but remains entirely relevant.”
He opens it carefully.
“Title One: Respect curfew. Students are not permitted to roam campus after midnight or before five a.m. unless instructed otherwise by faculty.”
Dennis shifts slightly in his seat.
“Title Two: Do not enter restricted areas without permission. For more information, consult your student pamphlet.”
Robby turns a page.
“Title Three: After midnight, all curtains and windows must remain closed until morning.”
Dennis blinks.
That one feels… weird.
He quietly tucks the thought away for later.
“Title Four: Candles, lighters, or anything capable of causing fire damage are prohibited within dormitories. Again, refer to your student pamphlet for additional information.”
Another page.
“Title Five: Visitors are prohibited from academy grounds after seven p.m.”
“Title Six: Students are expected to remain on academy grounds throughout the semester.”
“Title Seven: Wandering within the surrounding woods is strictly prohibited.”
Robby pauses.
Then slowly looks up from the book.
“For your safety.”
The room is silent.
Not even whispering.
Robby looks back down.
“Title Eight: If bells are heard outside their scheduled hours, students are to immediately return to their dormitories and await further instruction before exiting.”
Dennis feels his stomach twist coldly.
The bells again.
“Title Nine: Harassment or physical harm toward fellow students will not be tolerated.”
“Title Ten: Heed the academy dress code. Any student found outside regulation uniform without permission will be dress coded accordingly.”
Robby closes the book softly.
For one brief second, Dennis swears he sees more writing inked across the pages than what was actually read aloud.
Lines and lines of it.
Far too much to fit only ten rules.
Robby removes his glasses carefully before looking out across the auditorium.
“Any student found violating these rules,” he says calmly, “will be disciplined accordingly.”
A pause.
“Whether through community hours, suspension…”
His eyes briefly flick toward the audience.
“Or expulsion.”
~~~
The assembly wraps shortly afterward.
“Well then,” Jack says smoothly as he steps back toward the microphone, “I believe that concludes tonight’s announcements.”
He folds his hands neatly behind his back.
“To our returning students, welcome home once again.”
His eyes drift slowly across the auditorium.
“And to our newcomers…” His gaze lands briefly on Dennis. “We hope St. Abbots proves memorable.”
Something about the way he says memorable sends another strange feeling through Dennis’s chest.
Jack smiles lightly.
“Have a wonderful school year everyone. It’s getting late, so off to bed with you all.”
A few students laugh softly as the auditorium erupts into movement.
By the time everyone begins filing out, it’s already nearing nine o’clock.
Trinity and Victoria stand first.
“C’mon, Huckleberry,” Trinity says, stretching her arms over her head. “I’m exhausted.”
Victoria smiles at him.
“It was nice meeting you, Dennis.”
“You too.”
The three of them start moving with the crowd toward the exits.
But before Dennis fully reaches the doors,
a hand settles gently against his shoulder.
Dennis startles slightly before turning around.
Principal Jack Abbot stands behind him smiling.
Up close he somehow looks even sharper than he did in the portrait.
Silver curls brushed neatly back. Dark clothes perfectly tailored. Freckles faint beneath warm auditorium lighting.
Behind him, Robby still stands near the stage packing away microphone cords into a leather bag.
“Whitaker, is it?” Jack asks smoothly.
Dennis glances around nervously.
The auditorium has nearly emptied now.
“Oh—uh, yes. Dennis Whitaker.” He hesitates awkwardly. “But you seem to already know that.”
Jack studies him for a second.
Then chuckles softly.
“I know all of my students’ names,” he says. “I am the one who reviews applications after all.”
There’s a pause.
A strange sort of tension Dennis can’t place.
“And hands out scholarships,” Jack adds calmly.
Dennis perks up slightly.
“You mean, you gave me all this money so I could come here?”
Jack laughs softly at that.
“Student families donate generously so we’re able to provide opportunities such as yours,” he explains. “But yes, you could say I had a hand in it.”
Dennis immediately straightens a little.
“Well, thank you, sir. Seriously.” He rubs nervously at the back of his neck. “This is a really big opportunity for me.”
Jack watches him closely while he speaks.
Too closely.
Something unreadable lingers behind his hazel eyes.
Not anger.
Hunger?
Not exactly that either.
Just,
intense.
Dennis suddenly feels painfully aware of himself standing there.
His messy curls.
His awkward stance.
The way Jack’s attention feels almost completely fixed on him.
“I certainly hope the drive from Nebraska wasn’t too terrible,” Jack says after a moment.
Dennis blinks.
Right.
Applications.
That’s how he knows all this.
Still, it feels oddly personal hearing it out loud.
“It was about as good as a two-day drive can be,” Dennis says with a nervous laugh.
Jack smiles.
“I imagine so.”
Footsteps echo behind them as Robby finally approaches carrying the packed microphone equipment over one shoulder.
“Jack,” he says dryly, “I certainly hope you’re behaving yourself with our newcomers.”
His eyes narrow slightly toward Abbot.
Jack laughs immediately.
“Do I ever do otherwise?”
Robby snorts quietly before turning toward Dennis instead.
“Get some rest tonight, Mr. Whitaker.”
He places a warm hand briefly against Dennis’s shoulder, squeezing once gently.
“There’s an adjustment period here for everyone.”
Dennis nods awkwardly.
“Thank you, sir.”
Jack smiles at him once more.
“Sleep well, Dennis.”
Then the two men begin heading out the auditorium doors together.
Just before exiting, Jack pauses.
He turns slightly back toward Dennis.
“And if you need anything,” he says smoothly, “don’t hesitate to stop by my office.”
“Jack,” Robby says warningly from beside the doorway.
Abbot grins faintly.
“Oh, I’m coming.”
Then the two disappear out into the hallway.
Dennis stands there for another few seconds completely motionless.
His face feels unbearably warm all the way to the tips of his ears for reasons he absolutely does not want to examine right now.
What the hell even was that interaction?
The now-empty auditorium suddenly feels far too large and far too quiet around him.
Torchlight flickers softly against velvet seats while the stage sits abandoned at the front of the room.
Dennis swallows hard before finally turning toward the exit.
Then he heads back to his dorm.