The First Boy I Know

I’ve known Nikolai Hayes for as long as I can remember. Not in the dramatic, romantic way people like to describe childhood love stories, but in a quieter, more ordinary way—like he had always just been part of my life without needing to earn that place. If I think hard enough, he’s always there in my earliest memories. Not always in focus, not always in the center, but present in the background like something constant. A familiar voice. A familiar presence. Someone I never had to reintroduce myself to. There are old photos somewhere in my mother’s house that prove it. In one of them, I’m missing a front tooth and smiling too widely, while Nikolai stands slightly behind me, looking at the camera like he wasn’t entirely sure why adults found this moment worth capturing. Even then, he had that same quiet expression he still has now. Our mothers were friends first. That was always how the story began whenever anyone asked. They would laugh while telling it, as if it was something nostalgic and sweet. “You two used to follow each other around before you even knew what friendship meant,” they would say. And maybe they were right. Because even before I understood what having a best friend meant, Nikolai was already there. ⸻ We grew up in the same neighborhood, went to the same school, and somehow ended up sharing routines that became so normal I stopped noticing them as separate moments. It was always the same rhythm—morning walks, school days, homework, and quiet afternoons that blurred together over time. It should have been boring. Predictable, even. But it wasn’t. At least not when he was there. Nikolai was never the loud type. He didn’t try to be the center of attention, and yet people naturally looked at him anyway. Teachers trusted him too easily. Other students followed his lead without questioning it. Even when he wasn’t speaking, there was something about him that made people listen. I used to think it was because he was naturally confident. Now I think it was something else I didn’t fully understand yet. And me… I was just there beside him. Always beside him. ⸻ “Amielle.” I heard his voice before I even turned around. A light tap landed on my shoulder, and I already knew it was him without needing to check. Nikolai walked beside me like he had always been there. His backpack hung loosely from one shoulder, and his uniform looked slightly undone, like he never cared enough to fix the small details others worried about. “You’re slow today,” he said calmly. I immediately frowned. “I’m not slow. You’re just walking too fast again.” He didn’t argue. He never really did when it came to me. Instead, he adjusted his pace slightly without a word, matching mine as if it was the most natural thing in the world. We continued walking in silence for a while. The school path was already full of students, voices overlapping, footsteps echoing in different directions. But between us, there was a kind of quiet that didn’t feel uncomfortable. After a few seconds, he spoke again. “You didn’t eat breakfast.” It wasn’t a question, and that alone made me glance at him. “How do you even know that?” I asked. “You always walk slower when you skip meals.” “That’s not true,” I said immediately, even though I wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t. “It is,” he replied simply. I sighed, shaking my head slightly. “You’re really annoying sometimes, you know that?” He didn’t respond. Instead, he reached into his bag and pulled out a small wrapped snack. Without hesitation, he held it out toward me. I stared at it for a moment longer than necessary. “I’m not a child.” “I didn’t say you were,” he said. “Then why are you giving me food?” “Because you didn’t eat.” There was no emotion in his voice. No hesitation. Just certainty, like it was a fact he didn’t need to explain further. And somehow, that made it harder to argue. After a moment, I took it. Our fingers brushed briefly during the exchange, a small contact that should have meant nothing at all, but for some reason made me more aware of my own hand than usual. I quickly looked away and unwrapped the snack, pretending I didn’t notice anything different. ⸻ By the time we reached the school gates, the world shifted slightly. Inside school, Nikolai wasn’t just Nikolai anymore. People noticed him everywhere. Teachers greeted him differently, students made space for him without thinking, and even strangers seemed to glance at him longer than necessary. There was something about him that naturally drew attention without him ever trying. And I had always been beside him through it all, like I was part of the same picture but never the focus. We stopped at the usual intersection where we always split paths. “This is me,” I said. Nikolai nodded slightly. “After class?” “Like always.” He gave a small nod again, then turned and walked away without hesitation. I stood there for a moment longer than I needed to, watching his figure disappear into the crowd before I finally turned toward my classroom. It was routine. Something familiar. Something unchanged. Or at least, that was what I believed. ⸻ It wasn’t until lunch that something felt different. At first, it was nothing noticeable. Just the usual noise of the cafeteria, students talking, chairs scraping, trays moving across tables. I sat in my usual spot, half-listening to conversations that never really involved me. Then I saw him. Nikolai. But he wasn’t alone. Vivienne Collins stood beside him, and even from a distance, she looked like she belonged somewhere more polished than this. There was something effortless about her presence, like she never had to try to fit in because she already did. She was smiling as she talked to him, her hand lightly resting on his arm like it was something completely natural. Like it had always been that way. Nikolai wasn’t smiling, but he was listening. Fully. Carefully. The way he rarely did unless something mattered. Something in my chest tightened, subtle but sharp enough to make me pause. I didn’t know what it was at first. I only knew it made me uncomfortable in a way I couldn’t explain. So I looked away. Because if I kept looking, I might start noticing things I wasn’t ready to understand. ⸻ “Amielle.” I looked up quickly. Nikolai was suddenly standing in front of me, like he had always been there and I had simply failed to notice. “When did you get here?” I asked too quickly. “With Vivienne,” he said. Of course. I nodded automatically, as if that was supposed to make everything feel normal again. “That’s nice,” I said. But even I could hear that my voice sounded different. Nikolai didn’t respond right away. His eyes stayed on me for a second longer than usual, like he was trying to read something I wasn’t saying. “Are you okay?” he asked. That question again. I forced a small smile. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” He didn’t answer immediately, and the silence between us felt heavier than I liked. Finally, he said, “Let’s go home later.” Like always. Like nothing had changed. And I nodded. Like I always do. ⸻ But as I watched him walk back toward Vivienne again, something inside me shifted quietly. Not dramatically. Not suddenly. Just enough for me to notice it later when I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I had always thought there was a place in Nikolai’s life that belonged to me. Not in a romantic way I had ever confessed, not even in a way I had fully admitted to myself, but something quieter than that. Something unspoken. Something permanent. But for the first time, I wondered if that place had ever really existed. Or if I had simply stood close enough to believe I belonged somewhere I never truly did.