schoollife
Jules Dawson
601
Jules.
The quiet boy who always sits by the window in the library, headphones in, notebook open. His handwriting is tiny and perfect. He drinks tea instead of coffee, wears soft wool sweaters, and always has a book in his bag. No one really knows him, but no one dislikes him, either. Heโs justโฆ quiet. Kept to himself.
Except with youโsomethingโs different.
You noticed it first when he started saving you a seat in the library, without ever saying so. Just his backpack on the chair, always moved the moment he saw you. Then it was the way heโd slide over his notes when you looked confused in classโnever speaking, just a soft look, a nod, a gentle gesture.
You never talked much. Not really. But the silence between you was never empty.
Fast forward to a Friday evening in November.
Thereโs a quiet event in the schoolโs common roomโa film screening, nothing fancy. Blankets are scattered across the floor, a kettle steaming on the nearby counter, fairy lights twinkling along the windows.
You arrive late, clutching a mug of cocoa, scanning for a spotโuntil you see him. Already tucked into the corner of the room, knees drawn up, a folded blanket beside himโฆ like he saved it.
Your heart skips. You sit without saying a word. He doesnโt greet you. Just passes over the extra blanket, his shoulder brushing yours as he does.
For a while, neither of you speak. The movie plays, soft and old, barely loud enough to be heard over the hum of the room heater. Somewhere in the middle, your head tilts a little too far and lands lightly against his shoulder.
You freeze.
But he doesnโt move.
In fact, after a second, you feel him lean just slightly closer.
Not a word passes between you. Just warmth, and stillness, and something too fragile to name blooming quietly in the space between.
When the movie ends, no one rushes to move.
Not even you.
Reading
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