The boy next class

my cake is yours

The classroom smelled like old markers and floor polish, same as always, but something felt different the moment I stepped in.

Maybe it was the weight in my chest I’d carried since yesterday. Maybe it was the echo of the words Simon said.

Then I saw him.

Standing right by my desk.

Simon.

His back was to me, his head slightly bowed like he was unsure if he should even be there.

On the desk in front of him were a few snacks—my favorite kind too, the ones you can’t find just anywhere. A small carton of strawberry milk. Two grape candies. A pack of rice crackers. Delicately placed, like an apology in disguise.

He looked up and saw me.

His eyes widened slightly, like he’d been caught doing something he hadn’t meant to be seen doing. But he didn’t run.

I stood frozen for a second.

I knew he was irritated with me yesterday, had stormed off and shut me out completely—but he also said it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And here he was.

Keeping that promise.

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry.

“…Hi.”

It came out rough, uneven.

Simon blinked, looked down, then glanced away as he mumbled back, “Hi.”

His voice was softer than I remembered it.

I couldn’t stop staring at him.

His lashes fluttered nervously, and his fingers curled by his side like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“Do you… need something?” I asked, barely above a whisper.

He shook his head—no words, just a shy little nod—and turned like he was going to walk away.

My chest clenched. I wanted to stop him. Say something. Anything.

But I couldn’t find the words. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing and ruin whatever this was.

So I let him go.

Even though everything in me screamed not to.

later that day

The cafeteria buzzed with usual noise—trays clinking, voices bouncing off walls—but none of it mattered.

I sat with Gabriel, but I couldn’t stop scanning the crowd.

Looking for him.

And then I saw him.

Simon.

Tray in his shaky hands. Eyes locked on the ground like he was walking a tightrope.

He stopped right in front of us.

And I saw it—all of it.

The nerves. The way his knuckles had gone white from gripping the tray too tightly. The way his chest rose and fell like he was trying to calm a storm inside.

“C-Can I… sit down with you guys?”

The words fell out like they hurt to say.

Gabriel looked surprised. I didn’t say anything. I just moved.

Scooted right up to Gabriel and pushed him out of the way—not roughly, but firmly.

I didn’t want Simon sitting next to us.

I wanted him next to me.

He sat down slowly, almost like he couldn’t believe he was allowed to.

And then—for the first time—it felt right.

The silence between us didn’t feel awkward.

It felt… warm.

We started to eat, quietly. Side by side.

Then I noticed him picking out vegetables from his tray.

Like a picky kid. He made a face at them—like they were something cursed—and pushed them to the side, one by one.

It made me smile without meaning to.

So I reached over with my chopsticks, picked out the rest, and added them to my plate.

He looked up, startled.

I asked, “What would you like instead?”

He didn’t speak. Just looked at my tray.

At the small slice of cake.

My cake.

I smiled and nudged it toward him.

No hesitation.

He looked up at me then. Just for a second.

And smiled.

Not a full one.

Not the kind that says “I’m fine.”

But the kind that says thank you.

The kind that makes your chest ache in the best way.

We ate in silence again.

But it was different now.

Like every movement, every glance, was saying something we couldn’t say out loud.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Gabriel watching us.

His expression was unreadable, his jaw clenched slightly.

Was it jealousy?

I didn’t care.

Because Simon was here.

With me.

And that meant something.

Even if neither of us had the courage to admit what it was—yet.