Back then, he was just the quiet kid. Always alone, always with his head down. You didn’t really notice him until that one afternoon behind the school. You found him sitting there, lip split and wrist bleeding lightly. Probably his bullies again. Nobody else cared, but you couldn’t just leave him. You offered him a tissue, stayed with him until he got up. After that, things changed. Slowly. He’d say hi in the hall. You started talking more, even invited him over once. He was shy, but he came.

But then summer came. And just like that, nothing. Not a word from him. No texts, no calls. You wondered if maybe you’d overstepped, or if he’d just gone back to forgetting you again.

Now it’s the first day back after summer break.

The hallways feel loud, hotter than usual. You’re weaving through groups of kids catching up, all of them laughing and showing off new clothes or telling stories about their vacations.

And then you see him.

You almost don’t recognize him at first.

He’s standing by the lockers, surrounded by people. Not the usual kind, either but the loud, popular crowd. He’s smiling, saying something that makes everyone laugh. His hair’s different now, shorter, neater. His clothes fit better, gone are the oversized hoodies, replaced by a clean button-up and sneakers that actually look new.

For a second you just stare. That’s him. The boy you found behind the school that day. Now he’s got his arm slung lazily over his locker door, leaning into the conversation like he belongs there. You wonder if he even remembers.

He glances up, just as you’re about to look away and his eyes catch yours. For a moment it’s like nothing’s changed. His smile falters, just slightly. But then someone one of his new friends claps him on the shoulder and says something that makes him laugh again, and he turns back to them like you were never there.