The Unwritten

At 8:17 in the morning, Arin discovered that his best friend had never existed. He discovered it because there was an empty desk beside his. At first, that was all it was. An empty desk. Nothing unusual. Students were always absent. Someone forgot their homework. Someone overslept. Someone got sick. Arin dropped his bag beside his chair and glanced toward the empty seat. "Late again, huh?" He smiled instinctively. Then he stopped. There was something strange about the desk. It was clean. Not empty clean. Clean as if nobody had ever used it. No scratches on the wooden surface. No pen marks. No forgotten wrappers stuffed beneath it. No initials carved into the corner. Nothing. Arin frowned. Yesterday, there had been a small c***k running across the top. Yesterday, there had also been a sticker stuck underneath the desk. A ridiculous blue dinosaur. His friend had put it there during the first week of school. Arin crouched down. Nothing. He checked again. Nothing. "Looking for something?" Arin nearly jumped. His classmate, Dev, was standing beside him. "Yeah." "What?" "His sticker." Dev stared at him. "Whose?" Arin looked up. "Kian's." There was a pause. Dev's expression changed. Not confusion. Something closer to concern. "Who's Kian?" Arin laughed. It came out awkwardly. "Very funny." "I'm serious." "So am I." Dev glanced at the empty desk. "That's been empty since the beginning of the year." Arin stared at him. "No." "Yes." "No, it hasn't." Dev shrugged. "You sit there." Arin slowly stood. "I sit here." "Exactly." "And Kian sits there." Dev's eyebrows tightened. "Arin..." He pointed at the empty desk. "There has never been anyone sitting there." The classroom suddenly seemed much quieter. Arin looked around. Twenty-nine students. Twenty-nine faces. He knew every one of them. Except— No. That wasn't right. There should have been thirty. There had always been thirty. He knew that. He was certain. He could remember Kian sitting beside him. He could remember their arguments. The stupid jokes. The notes they passed during mathematics. The day Kian had fallen asleep during a history lecture and nearly been caught. He could even remember his voice. "You're overthinking it again." Arin swallowed. "What about Ms. Rao?" "What about her?" "She knows him." Dev gave him an uncomfortable look. "Arin, maybe you should sit down." "No." He walked toward the teacher's desk. Ms. Rao was arranging papers. "Ma'am?" She looked up. "Yes?" "Where's Kian?" Her hands stopped. Only for a fraction of a second. Then she smiled. "Kian who?" Arin's stomach dropped. "Kian Malhotra." The teacher stared at him. "I don't have a student by that name." "Yes, you do." "No." "You've taught him for two years." A few students looked over. Ms. Rao's expression hardened. "Arin, I think you should sit down." "Check the attendance register." She hesitated. Then she opened it. Arin stepped closer. There were thirty names. He knew exactly where Kian's name should be. Between Kabir and Meera. But there was nothing. Kabir. Meera. No Kian. Arin's breathing became shallow. "That's not possible." Ms. Rao closed the register. "Go to the infirmary." "I'm not sick." "You seem confused." "I'm not confused." His voice cracked. "I'm remembering him." Nobody answered. Arin looked around the classroom. "Does anyone remember Kian?" Silence. Then someone laughed nervously. Another student shook their head. One girl whispered something to her friend. Nobody said his name. Not one person. Arin returned to his seat. His hands were trembling. He opened his phone. Maybe this was some elaborate joke. Maybe everyone had decided to pretend. He searched his contacts. Nothing. He searched his messages. Nothing. His heart began pounding. He opened his photo gallery. Hundreds of pictures. Family. School. Friends. Random screenshots. He searched by date. Nothing. He searched again. Still nothing. He opened his cloud storage. Nothing. Social media. Nothing. There was no Kian. No photograph. No message. No account. No trace. It was as though the boy had been erased from every place except Arin's mind. Then Arin remembered something. His school bag. He opened it. Textbooks. Notebook. Geometry box. Water bottle. And— A folded piece of paper. Arin froze. He slowly pulled it out. The handwriting was unmistakable. He knew it. Kian's handwriting. Messy. Slanted. Almost impossible to read. Arin unfolded the paper. There were only two lines. If you're reading this, they've already forgotten me. Arin stopped breathing. His eyes moved to the second line. Whatever happens, don't let them forget you. The bell rang. The entire class jumped. Arin barely noticed. He stared at the paper. Then he noticed something else. There was writing on the back. He turned it over. A single sentence. I knew you would remember. Arin's hands went cold. He looked toward the empty desk. For the first time, he noticed something carved into its underside. He crouched down and touched the wood. There was a name. Not Kian. Not even a word. It was a date. 09 / 06 / 2009 Arin stared at it. His birthday. He pulled his hand away. The classroom lights flickered. Once. Twice. Then his phone vibrated. A notification appeared. New message. Unknown sender. Arin opened it. There was no text. Only a photograph. His classroom. Taken from the back corner. Everyone was visible. Every student. Every desk. Except one. Arin zoomed in. His face went pale. There was a person sitting beside him. A person nobody remembered. A person who didn't appear in the photograph. Only Arin could see the empty space where the photograph should have shown him. Then another message arrived. This time, there were words. You remembered him. A second message appeared immediately afterward. Now they know you can remember. Arin looked toward the classroom door. It was slowly opening. And standing on the other side was a man he had never seen before. The man smiled. "Arin." Arin stood frozen. "How do you know my name?" The man's smile disappeared. "I was hoping you wouldn't ask that." He stepped into the classroom. Then he looked at the empty desk. And whispered: "He's not supposed to be remembered." Arin tightened his grip around the piece of paper. "Who are you?" The man looked directly at him. "Someone who remembers what happens next." And then the lights went out.