For a long while, I stood there, silent beside him, keeping his company, while the river kept speaking for both of us. It was soft, rippling, and alive. Simon didn't glance at me not once, and I didn't ask him to. We stayed like that for a while. Long enough for the sun to dip just a little lower into the river.
Then, without warning, Simon shifted to the side, just slightly making space for me.
I hesitated for a second before gathering the courage to sit down beside him. Not too close. But close enough to let him know he wasn't alone.
He pulled his knees to his chest, arms wrapped around them like a shield. I didn't try to break through it. I just sat, staring at the same water he was watching, pretending it made sense to me too.
A bird flew low over the river, and the wind stirred the grass around us.
Then Simon spoke.
"You're Jimmy, right?"
His voice was soft and careful.
I turned to him, surprised. "You… know my name?"
He didn't look at me, but I saw the half smile that tried to creep up the corner of his lips.
"You're in the same club as Gabriel. You always sit at the back of the library… second desk from the window, You also write a lot."
I blinked, surprised and shocked out of my mind. He noticed me?
A strange warmth crept up my chest. Something about how he said it so matter-of-fact, so quietly it made my heart stutter.
"You're always alone too," he added.
I swallowed hard.
"Yeah," I said, forcing a little laugh. "I guess that's something we have in common."
Simon was quiet for a beat. Then: "No. You choose it."
I flinched a little. Because he was right.
I chose silence. I chose to keep my head down. Choose not to be seen. But Simon…
Simon didn't choose grief. Or this kind of loneliness he is feeling now.
"I don't know what to say to you," I admitted. "I didn't come here to make you feel better, or give you some motivational quote. I just couldn't stop my legs from running to you after hearing the news."
That was the truth. The ugly, bare, vulnerable truth.
Simon finally looked at me.
His eyes were swollen. His lips were trembling, though he tried to hide it.
"Why me?" he asked. "We've never talked before. We were never friends… were we?"
His words weren't bitter, just… confused.
I looked down at my shoes. One was still missing, my sock soaked in river dew and mud.
"No," I said honestly. "We weren't."
His face fell just a little more. And then I added—
"But I wanted to be."
The silence that followed was heavier than all the ones before it. My pulse beat wildly in my ears. I'd never said anything like that out loud. Never admitted that someone mattered to me.
Simon blinked rapidly, like he didn't know how to respond. So I kept going.
"I noticed you. A long time ago. I just never knew how to talk to you. I thought maybe you wouldn't even acknowledge me."
Simon stared at me.
Then his lips twitched.
A ghost of a smile.
"You're weird," he said.
I let out a small laugh. "I get that a lot."
He looked back at the river, wiping his eyes again with his hand.
"…I'm not okay, Jimmy," he said finally, voice barely there.
It took everything in me not to reach for him. Not to touch his hand or wrap an arm around him or pull him into my chest like I imagined a hundred times on sleepless nights.
So I just said, "I know."
He didn't cry again. He didn't speak.
We sat there until the sun began to disappear, until the sky dimmed and the river started to lose its color.
Then he whispered, "Thank you for running to me."
And just like that, the wall between us began to crack.
The sky turned deep blue before either of us moved.
By then, the cicadas had started to sing, and the wind had cooled, brushing over the river like it was trying to lull the world to sleep. Simon and I just sat there, still and wordless, like we were holding onto the last bit of something fragile.
Then finally, he stood up.
I followed, slowly, brushing dirt from my clothes. My sock was nearly black from mud, and the chill had begun to sting my skin. But none of that mattered. Not really.
He didn't ask me to leave, but he didn't ask me to stay either. He just… started walking, and I walked with him. Side by side. In step. Quiet.
We followed the narrow dirt path away from the river, toward the road. The grass rustled around our ankles. The stars were starting to peek through the sky.
"I don't want to go back to school yet," he said, eyes straight ahead.
I nodded. "You don't have to. No one expects you to."
"But they will," he added. "They'll expect me to act normal. To sit in that chair. To do homework like nothing happened."
He stopped walking for a moment and turned to me.
"You know what's the worst part?"
I shook my head.
"They'll all stare at me," he said. "But no one will ask me if I'm okay. Because they're scared of the answer."
I bit my lip, wanting to say something to make it easier. But he didn't need comfort. He needed honesty.
"I'll ask," I said.
Simon looked at me. His expression was unreadable.
Then he smiled.
It wasn't a bright smile. It was soft and sad and almost shy, like it didn't know if it was allowed to exist yet.
"I'd like that," he said quietly.
We kept walking again, the sound of our footsteps filling the space between our words.
We reached a busier road, one that led back into the part of town I knew. I stopped. "This is where I turn."
Simon paused, nodding. "I know."
We stood there for a moment, both unsure of what to say.