First day
I wasn’t supposed to be late.
That’s the first thing you should know.
I had planned everything the night before the outfit laid out neatly on my chair, my bag packed, my alarm set twice just in case.
First days mattered, first impressions mattered, and I wasn’t the kind of person people noticed twice, so I needed to get it right the first time.
But of course, life doesn’t really care about your plans.
The alarm didn’t ring, or maybe it did, and I slept through it. Either way, I woke up to sunlight already spilling across my face and the horrible, sinking realization that I was late.
Not just late.
I don’t think I’ve ever gotten ready faster in my life. Everything felt rushed, my thoughts, my movements, even my breathing by the time I got out of the house, my heart was already racing like I had been running for miles and by the time I reached school, it was worse.
The gates were half-closed. Students were already in their classes. The once busy courtyard had that quiet, settled feeling that comes after everything important has already begun.
I stood there for a second, adjusting my grip on my bag, trying to steady myself.
“Okay,” I whispered under my breath. “It’s fine. Just walk in. No one will care.”
That was a lie.
Everyone always cares.
The hallway felt too long as I walked through it. My footsteps echoed more than they should have and every classroom door I passed made me more aware of how late I was.
When I finally reached my classroom, I paused.
Just for a second.
My hand hovered over the door handle as I took a quiet breath.
You can do this.
I pushed the door open.
And instantly, every head turned.
Of course, they did.
“I....I’m sorry I’m late,” I said, my voice coming out softer than I intended.
The teacher glanced at me, then at the clock, then back at me again.
“First day and you’re already making an impression,” she said dryly. “Take a seat.”
Nobody adores a latecomer.
That was when I realized something very important.
There was only one empty seat left and it was at the back.
Next to him.
I noticed him immediately not because he was doing anything special, but because he looked like he didn’t belong to the quiet, orderly atmosphere of the class. He was leaning back slightly in his chair completely relaxed, like this was all just mildly entertaining to him.
Like I was mildly entertaining to him.
I adjusted my bag and started walking toward the seat, fully aware of the eyes still following me. Each step felt louder than the last as the entire room was listening to the sound of my embarrassment.
When I finally reached the desk, I pulled the chair out carefully and sat down, keeping my eyes forward.
Don’t look at him.
Just sit.
Just breathe.
I chanted in my head.
It took exactly three seconds for that plan to fail.
“Hi.”
I closed my eyes for a brief moment.
Of course.
I turned slightly, just enough to acknowledge him without fully facing him.
“Hi,” I replied quietly.
He smiled like he’d been waiting for that.
“You look like you read sad books,” he said completely serious.
I blinked.
“…What?”
He leaned a little closer, lowering his voice like he was sharing something important.
“Like the kind where someone dies at the end and you pretend you’re fine, but you’re actually not.”
I stared at him.
For a second, I wasn’t even sure what to say.
“…That’s a very strange thing to say to someone you just met.”
“Is it wrong?”
I hesitated.
“… No,” I admitted before I could stop myself.
His smile widened slightly like he had just proven a point.
“I knew it.”
I turned back to face the front, trying to ignore the small, unexpected feeling that settled in my chest.
It wasn’t annoyance.
It wasn’t an embarrassment.
It was something lighter, something I didn’t quite recognize yet.
For the next few minutes, he stayed quiet. I almost thought that was the end of it.
Then....
“I’m glad you sat here.”
I turned to him again confusion clearly filling my face.
“I didn’t have a choice,” I pointed out.
“Still,” he said with a small shrug. “Feels like a good thing.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that So I didn’t.
I just looked away again focusing on the board, on the teacher, on anything that would keep me from thinking too much about the way he said it so casually… like it actually meant something.
But even as I tried to ignore him I became painfully aware of one thing.
The seat beside me didn’t feel uncomfortable.
It didn’t feel awkward.
It felt… easy.
And that was new.
Because usually sitting next to someone felt like something I had to endure.
But this?
This felt like something I might not mind.
I didn’t realize it then.
I didn’t realize how something so small, something as simple as sitting in the only empty seat could change so many things.
But if I had known…
I think I still would’ve chosen it.
Even if it meant being late.
