Acceptance
1442 Words
People started noticing.
Not in a loud, obvious way.
Nothing dramatic like whispers following us down the hallway or people openly pointing and staring.
It was quieter than that. Subtle.
The kind of noticing you only catch if you’re already paying attention.
And unfortunately… I was.
“You sit with him now?”
I looked up from my notebook.
A girl I vaguely recognized from class someone who usually sat two rows ahead was standing beside my desk, her expression curious rather than judgmental.
“…Sometimes,” I said carefully.
She glanced toward the empty seat next to me.
“He’s not here yet?”
I blinked.
“…Not yet.”
She nodded slowly, like that confirmed something for her.
“Hm.”
Before I could ask what that meant, she smiled slightly.
“You’re quieter than I expected.”
I paused. “Okay?”
“I thought you’d be more…” She gestured vaguely. “I don’t know. Different.”
“Different how?”
“More distant, I guess. He talks to you a lot.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that. So I didn’t.
She seemed to take my silence as an answer anyway.
“Well,” she said, stepping back “see you around.”
“…Yeah.”
She walked away just as the classroom door opened again.
And right on cue.
“There you are.”
I didn’t even have to look up to know it was him.
“You’re late,” I said.
“I’m right on time,” he replied dropping into the seat beside me.
“You’re not.”
“I am.”
“You’re not.”
He leaned back slightly glancing at me with that familiar amused expression.
“You missed me?”
“No.”
“That was too fast.”
“It was honest.”
“Sure.”
I rolled my eyes, but there was no real irritation behind it.
Not anymore.
Class started, but I couldn’t focus the way I usually did.
Not because he was talking he was surprisingly quiet again but because of what that girl said.
You sit with him now?
It wasn’t wrong. I did Not just in class.
At lunch.
After school.
Anywhere it felt… natural.
And that was the problem.
It felt natural.
Like it had always been that way.
Like it hadn’t only been a few days.
“You’re distracted,” he murmured beside me.
I didn’t look at him.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“You say that about everything.”
“Because it’s usually true.”
I exhaled quietly tapping my pen lightly against my notebook.
“…Someone talked to me before you came in.”
“Oh?” he said, suddenly more interested. “Who?”
"I don’t know her name.”
“What did she want?”
I hesitated.
“…She asked about you.”
That got his attention.
“About me?”
“Yes.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“I didn’t know what to say.”
He was quiet for a moment.
Then
“That’s fair.”
I glanced at him. “You’re not going to ask what she said?”
“I figured you’d tell me if you wanted to.”
That caught me off guard.
“…She said I was quieter than she expected.”
He smiled slightly.
“That’s accurate.”
“And that you talk to me a lot.”
“That’s also accurate.”
I frowned faintly. “You’re not bothered?”
“Should I be?”
“I don’t know.”
He shrugged lightly. “People notice things. It’s normal.”
“…Does that bother you?”
He looked at me for a second.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t really care what they think.”
That answer felt… very him.
Simple, Certain.
I looked down again, tracing the edge of my notebook.
“…I think I do.”
He didn’t respond immediately.
Then, softer this time. “Why?”
I hesitated.
Because I didn’t actually have a good answer.
“I just do,” I said finally.
He studied me for a moment like he was trying to understand something deeper than what I was saying.
Then he nodded.
“Okay.”
That was it.
No teasing.
No pushing.
Just… okay.
And somehow, that made it easier to breathe.
At lunch, the noticing became more obvious.
We sat in our usual spot under the tree, but this time, it didn’t feel as quiet as it usually did.
Not because people were loud.
But because I could feel it.
Glances.
Curiosity.
Recognition.
I shifted slightly, focusing on the ground in front of me.
“You’re doing it again,” he said.
“…Doing what?”
“Trying to disappear.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
I frowned. “You say that a lot.”
“Because you do it a lot.”
I didn’t respond.
Because again He wasn’t wrong.
He leaned back slightly, resting on his hands as he looked up at the sky.
“Does it bother you that people are looking?”
I hesitated.
“…A little.”
“Why?”
I picked at the edge of my sleeve again.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have."
He was quiet for a moment.
Then
“You can ignore them.”
I let out a small almost humorless laugh. “It’s not that easy.”
"It kind of is.”
“It’s really not.”
He turned his head slightly to look at me. “It is if you stop caring.”
I met his gaze briefly.
“…I don’t think I can do that.”
“That’s okay,” he said.
I blinked. “That’s okay?” I repeated.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t have to be like me.”
That…
That made something in my chest tighten slightly.
In a good way.
“You’re fine the way you are,” he added.
I looked away quickly.
“…You say things like that too easily.”
“Like what?”
“Like it’s simple.”
“Maybe it is.”
“It’s not.”
“Okay,” he said not arguing this time. “Then it’s not.”
I didn’t know why that made me feel better. But it did.
A few minutes passed in comfortable silence.
Then
“You know,” he said suddenly, “I think they’re just curious.”
"About what?”
“Us.”
I stiffened slightly. “There is no ‘us.’”
He raised an eyebrow.
“There isn’t?”
“No.”
“We sit together every day.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“We walk together.”
“That also doesn’t mean anything.”
“We talk more than you talk to anyone else.”
I paused.
“…That still doesn’t mean anything.”
He smiled slightly.
“Okay.”
That was all he said. Just okay.
But the way he said it made it feel like he didn’t quite believe me.
And the worst part? I wasn’t sure I did either.
Later that afternoon, as we walked out of school together the crowd felt less overwhelming than it usually did.
Not because it had changed. But because I wasn’t alone in it.
“You’re quieter than usual,” he said.
“I’m thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
I almost smiled. “…About what she said.”
“The girl from this morning?”
“Yes.”
He nodded slightly. “And?”
I hesitated.
“…Do you think it’s weird?”
“What is?”
“This,” I said, gesturing slightly between us.
He didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he looked ahead like he was considering the question properly.
“No,” he said finally.
“Why not?”
“Because it feels normal.”
I looked at him.
“…It does?”
“Yeah.”
I thought about that. About everything.
The talking.
The walking.
The quiet moments.
The way things had slowly shifted without me even realizing it.
“…It does,” I admitted softly.
He glanced at me, a small smile forming.
“See?”
I shook my head slightly, but this time. I couldn’t hide the smile that followed and just like that something changed again.
Not big.
Not obvious.
But enough.
Because for the first time
I didn’t feel like I needed to step back.
And that was new.
That was like really, really new.
- Writer
