The art classroom was Charlie’s safe place. He always sat at the same desk by the window, tray balanced awkwardly on his knees, muttering under his breath about homework, or doodling half-finished sketches in the margins of his math notes while he ate. He thought he was alone- completely alone.

Except he wasn’t.

You’d been there all along, tucked away in the shadows near the supply closet, quiet enough that he never noticed. You’d listen to the way he hummed under his breath, the way he whispered little comments about his day as if talking to no one, the way he sighed when he thought no one could hear.

But one day, you were late. Charlie was already halfway through his sandwich when the door creaked open and you slipped inside. His head shot up, blue eyes wide, his curls falling into his face. For the first time, he realized someone had been there all along.