Day Two
1308 Words
The first thing I learned about sitting next to him was this:
Silence was not an option.
I lasted exactly four minutes.
Four peaceful, quiet minutes where I actually thought maybe he’s done talking, maybe that was just a first day thing, maybe I could survive the rest of the term without being constantly dragged into conversations I didn’t ask for.
Then I felt it.
A piece of paper sliding onto my desk.
I stared at it for a second before slowly glancing sideways.
He wasn’t looking at me. He was facing the front pen in hand, looking like the most innocent student in the world.
Sus….
Carefully I unfolded the paper. You didn’t answer my question.
I blinked.
What question?
I glanced at him again but he still wasn’t looking at me.
I looked back down.
What’s your favorite sad book?
I stared at the words longer than I should have. Was he serious?
We were in the middle of class and he was passing notes like we were in some kind of movie.
I hesitated then grabbed my pen before I could overthink it.
Why do you want to know?
I slid the paper back toward him.
This time I tried not to look. It didn’t work.
He read it, and I watched the corner of his mouth lift slightly, like he had expected that answer.
A few seconds later, the paper came back. Because I’m trying to understand you.
I paused.
That… was not what I expected.
For a moment I didn’t write anything. I just stared at the words unsure why they made me feel slightly off-balance.
No one had ever said something like that to me before.
Not like that. Not so easily.
I exhaled quietly and wrote back:
You don’t even know me.
He didn’t take long this time.
Exactly. That’s the problem.
I bit the inside of my cheek, trying not to react.
Why did that feel like a challenge?
I glanced at him again. He finally turned his head slightly just enough for our eyes to meet.
There was something playful there. But also something… curious. Like he actually meant it.
I looked away first.
This was ridiculous. We were supposed to be paying attention, and instead I was sitting here exchanging notes with someone who clearly had too much time on his hands.
Still…
I picked up my pen again.
Fine. " Alchemised. ”
I hesitated before adding, Don’t laugh.
I pushed the paper toward him quickly, like I could take it back if I moved fast enough.
He read it.
And for once... He didn’t smile.
Instead, his expression softened just slightly like he was thinking about something.
Then he wrote something down and passed it back.
I won’t. Sounds like my kind of book.
I stared at the words, surprised.
No teasing.
No jokes.
Just… that.
I didn’t realize I was smiling until I quickly looked down to hide it.
The bell rang before I could think of anything else to say.
Relief washed over me as students immediately began packing their bags and talking loudly, the quiet focus of the classroom dissolving into noise.
I reached for my things trying to slip back into my usual routine keep my head down, leave quickly, avoid unnecessary interactions.
“Wait.”
Of course.
I paused glancing at him.
He was already standing, bag slung over one shoulder like he had nowhere to be.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“…Out?” I replied confused.
He nodded like that was a reasonable answer.
“Okay. I’ll come with you.”
I blinked.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
That wasn’t reassuring.
I adjusted my bag and started walking anyway half-expecting him to stay behind.
He didn’t. He fell into step beside me easily, like this had already become a habit.
“So,” he said, glancing at me “do you always answer questions with questions, or am I just special?”
I sighed softly.
“You talk a lot.”
“I’ve been told,” he said completely unbothered.
We stepped into the hallway, the noise of students filling the space. For a moment I thought maybe he’d get distracted by someone else,someone more interesting, more talkative, more normal. But he stayed, Walking beside me like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“You didn’t tell me your name,” he said.
I hesitated.
For some reason, that felt… bigger than it should.
Still, I answered.
“I did. When I came in late.”
He tilted his head slightly.
“I wasn’t listening then.”
“…Of course you weren’t.”
He grinned.
“So? Tell me again.”
I looked ahead, debating whether or not to ignore him.
But something about the way he asked like he genuinely wanted to know made it harder than it should have been.
I told him.
Annika Wells
He repeated it softly, like he was testing how it sounded.
Then he smiled.
“Yeah. It suits you.”
I frowned slightly.
“What does that mean?”
“It just does.”
“That’s not an explanation.”
“You ask too many questions.”
“You started it.”
He laughed at that, an easy, light sound that made a few people nearby glance at us.
I looked down immediately.
He didn’t seem to care.
"My name Is William Greyson , reciprocity "
“Okay,” he said after a moment. “Your turn.”
“My turn?”
“Ask me something.”
I shook my head. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. You’re just quiet.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“It’s really not.”
I stopped walking.
He took a step before realizing I wasn’t beside him anymore then turned back.
For a second, neither of us said anything.
Then before I could talk myself out of it, I asked:
“Why are you talking to me?”
There it was.
The question I had been holding back since I sat down beside him.
He didn’t answer immediately.
He just looked at me, really looked this time, like he was considering how to respond.
“I don’t know,” he said finally.
That wasn’t what I expected.I frowned.
“You don’t know?”
He shook his head slightly, a small smile forming again.
“I just saw you walk in looking like you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you… and I thought you might need someone to make it less terrible.”
I stared at him.
“That’s a very strange reason.”
“Maybe,” he admitted. “But it worked didn’t it?”
I opened my mouth to argue. Then paused.
Because… it kind of did.
He watched my reaction carefully, like he was waiting for me to deny it.
I didn’t. I couldn’t.
Instead I looked away, adjusting my grip on my bag.
“…Maybe a little.”
His smile softened. “Good.”
We stood there for a moment longer than necessary.
Then he stepped closer, not too close, just enough to feel like he wasn’t going anywhere.
“I’m glad you sat next to me,” he said again, quieter this time.
Something about the way he said it felt different.
Less teasing.
More real.
I didn’t know what to do with that.So I did the only thing I could.
I turned and started walking again.
But this time I didn’t mind when he followed.
And when he started talking again, filling the silence with random, unnecessary things…
I didn’t tell him to stop. I just listened.
Because for the first time in a long time… Being around someone didn’t feel exhausting.It felt… easy. And I was starting to think that might be dangerous.
- Writer
