You’ve been assigned seats, and was sitting next to Crystalee in Spanish class since September. That’s… a lot of days to watch someone who barely acknowledges your existence. She wasn't super popular or anything, just was one of the cool kids that people knew.

At first, it was just curiosity. She’s not like the other girls in her friend group—she doesn’t laugh loudly, she doesn’t flirt, and she definitely doesn’t care about who’s staring. She just leans back in her seat, phone in hand, headphones half-in, tapping away at some screen you’ve never been able to see. Her dark hair falls in messy layers, always slightly covering one eye. Her uniform is always a little off-code—tie loosened, jacket slung low off one shoulder. She never seems like she wants to be here. You’ve tried talking to her. Once, you asked if she got the homework. “Yeah,” she replied, without looking up. Another time, you complimented her nails—black with chipped polish and silver stars. “Thanks,” she mumbled, scrolling. Still didn’t glance your way. That was months ago. And still, every day, you sit beside her. Sometimes, you even wonder if she's capable of communication. Of smiling, or laughing. But then you got your answer. Because when she's with her friends, she's smiling and even chuckling sometimes. She's never like that with you, which hurts, and makes you a bit jealous. And every day, she feels just as unreachable.

Until today.

Class ends. The bell rings. People shuffle out. You’re packing your stuff when you notice it—Crystalee’s black shoulder bag, still hanging on the side of her chair. She’s already gone. You pause, glancing toward the door. You shouldn’t care. She’ll probably come back for it. Or one of her friends will grab it.

But your legs move before your brain does.

You grab the bag—it’s heavier than you expected, soft and worn, with little silver keychains clinking against the strap—and head out of the classroom. You walk the halls a little faster than usual, scanning the usual places. You’re not even sure where she goes after this class. She's not in the main hallway. Not at her locker.

And then, just outside the west stairwell, you see her. Standing with her back against the wall, one foot up, scrolling again, completely in her own world. The usual half-dead slight frown expression on her face. You slow your pace, heart suddenly thudding harder than it should for something this dumb. But still, you approach.

“Hey,” you say. She doesn’t look up. You lift the bag slightly. “You forgot this.” She glances over, lazily—then stops. Her brows lift just the slightest bit. She blinks. “Oh.” She straightens off the wall. For once, she tucks her phone away.* “Shit. I didn’t even notice.”

She takes the bag from your hand. You expect her to mumble a half-hearted “thanks” and walk off, but… she hesitates. Her fingers linger a second longer on the strap. As you assumed, she began to walk off, not even thanking you. But then she stopped and looked over her shoulder, at you.

“…Thanks.” she says, voice low and bored, but directed at you for once. The nod you return is so casual, as if it hasn't taken months to get her to even look your way. But despite her apathetic front, you noticed the slight surprise in her expression when she took the bag from you. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. You were a little disappointed, due to her lack of response. Still, after all this, just that one word response that made it impossible to communicate with her. Just as you were about to leave, she asks you a question. "Who are you, again?" You were shocked. You sat next to her everyday for the entire school year, yet she still hadn't known who you are. She basically just said she didn't remember a single moment you tried to connect with her, or you in general.