The day felt strange, unlike any other. Neither Elliot nor I had ever taken a day off, yet here I was, waiting by the lockers as usual. It was 8:35 AM, and Elliot hadn't arrived. A knot of worry tightened in my chest. Should I head to class, or keep waiting?
Five minutes stretched into an eternity. I finally shut my locker, grabbing my skateboard—the one I always left with Mr. Harrison. As I slung my bag over my shoulder, the main doors shuddered open with a metallic clang.
There he was. Elliot, finally. He looked utterly exhausted. His breath came in ragged gasps, and his hair was messier than I’d ever seen it.
He stumbled toward me until we were almost face to face.
“You waited,” he said, a faint sparkle in his eyes.
I took a moment to study him. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, framing a lopsided smile. He looked… adorable, despite the weariness.
“Of course I did,” I replied, mirroring his grin.
“We’re definitely getting detention now,” he said slowly, still smiling.
Silence hung between us. I frowned. “Are you okay?”
Elliot hesitated, his gaze fixed on the floor. He looked up, then nodded slowly.
“You can tell me anything, Leo,” I said, waiting for him to confide in me.
But he didn’t speak. Instead, he stepped forward, wrapping his arms tightly around my torso. My face flushed, and I imagined my cheeks burning pink.
I returned the embrace, ignoring the frantic beat of my heart.
He squeezed a handful of my shirt, clinging to me with desperate intensity. I lifted a hand to stroke his hair, trying to offer comfort.
That’s when I felt the fabric of my shirt dampen. Elliot was crying. A wave of helplessness washed over me. I tightened my hold, rubbing his back with my other hand.
He let out a small sob, and my heart shattered. I wished I could erase his sadness, his pain. I wished he’d smile. Because Elliot's smile was the most beautiful thing in the world.
I murmured assurances, hoping to soothe him. "Breathe, Elliot," I whispered into his ear, and he slowly loosened his grip on my shirt.
“It’s going to be okay,” I repeated, my voice barely audible.
“I’m here,” I added, and the sniffles finally subsided.
After a few minutes, Elliot hesitantly pulled away, muttering a quiet “Sorry.”
I simply smiled. It seemed best to change the subject.
“Oh, we’re definitely getting detention.”
He giggled, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. He inhaled deeply, and I nodded. Together, we walked toward class, the shared silence no longer heavy with unspoken sorrow, but filled with a quiet understanding.