The classroom was louder than usual that morning—laughs bouncing off the windows, desks dragged with careless energy, someone shouting about leftover chocolates.
But none of it reached the middle row, third desk from the left.
Jay's seat.
Still empty.
Still untouched.
Still waiting.
Amaya entered quietly, as always, holding a small cloth-wrapped box of cookies she'd made the night before. She offered it to Tyler with a smile, then settled at her desk.
Her eyes flicked—just for a second—to the empty one beside her.
Jay had always slouched in that chair like he didn't owe the world posture. Always had some comment ready. Always stole the corner cookie when she brought snacks.
She placed a tiny chocolate beside his desk.
Not on it.
Beside it.
Like she was hoping he'd reach over and grab it again.
"You'll be back," she whispered. "You promised, remember?"
She stared at the chocolate for a second longer… then looked away.
Tyler kicked his backpack under his desk and slumped down like he was about to fall asleep.
He wasn't.
His eyes drifted toward the window. Then toward Jay's seat. Then back to the board.
Mr. Brooks was late again. Or pretending to be.
Tyler tapped his fingers on the desk, annoyed by the quiet.
"Dude," he muttered under his breath. "You'd hate this."
He could practically hear Jay making fun of someone's handwriting, or asking if teachers ever dreamt of being rockstars.
It was weird not having someone to joke with.
Even Miles wasn't arguing with anyone today.
Tyler looked back at the seat.
"Get your lazy ass back here soon, man. It's boring without you."
He smirked—just barely.
But it faded fast.
Luna didn't say anything. She never did.
She sat at the back, sketchpad open, pencil already dancing.
Today, she didn't draw anyone new.
She flipped to a half-finished page she had started over a month ago—Jay, slouched backward in his chair, mid-smile, talking to someone off-frame.
She had never finished the details of his eyes.
Today, she didn't try.
Instead, she added a background.
The classroom. The sun through the window. The chalk dust.
She shaded everyone else in muted tones.
Only his figure remained a sketch.
Still alive in graphite.
Still unfinished.
Just like the story.
Noah tossed a pencil at Miles. Miles dodged it with a glare.
Emma scribbled in her planner like it owed her something.
Sofia scrolled through her phone. She hadn't posted in the group chat all morning.
Mr. Brooks walked in, late as usual, coffee in hand and sunglasses still on.
He looked at the class.
Paused.
Eyes flicked to the empty desk.
He didn't say anything.
Just walked to the board and started the lesson.
The sun dipped low through the window.
Amaya lingered at her desk, packing slowly.
Tyler bounced a soccer ball off his foot out in the hallway, talking to no one.
Luna tore out a page from her sketchbook and folded it into her notebook.
And Jay's seat remained there.
Quiet.
Still.
Present, even in absence.