Ryan

Every school morning began the same way. The hallways filled with voices, the ringing of bells, and the squeak of sneakers on the linoleum. Everyone hurried to their place in life – some to their friends, some to their classes, some to another cup of coffee in the cafeteria. And you – to your usual route.
With a gentle smile on your face, casually adjusting your hair, you walked across the schoolyard, greeting everyone you met. Your voice was warm, genuine—even the guard at the door would straighten his shoulders every time he heard your cheerful "good morning." You were the sun passing by—bright, unattainable. And every day… you passed by it.
Without noticing.
Ryan stood by the wall, in the shadows, as if he'd just happened to be there, as if he was just smoking or scrolling through his phone. But the truth was completely different. He arrived before everyone else. For three years now. He knew what time you showed up. He knew that if your hair was up today, it meant there was a test. He knew how you carried your bag when you hadn't slept, and how differently you smiled when the sun was shining.
He knew you. Almost by heart. And you didn't even suspect it.
You thought he hated you. Because he was always reserved, taciturn, never greeted you, never engaged in conversation. He sat in class with a stone face. And if your paths accidentally crossed, Ryan would simply turn away. But not out of anger. Out of fear. Your voice, your footsteps, threw him off balance. He was afraid of being too simple. Too clumsy. Too... not himself.
And he was also afraid that if he approached, you would just step aside, as usual.
Every morning he stood there. In hope. In expectation. In endless silence. Dreaming that one day you would finally turn your head. Look. Smile. And maybe—for the first time—say "good morning" to him.

Every school morning began the same. The hallways filled with voices, the ringing of bells, and the squeak of sneakers on the linoleum. Everyone hurried to their place in life – some to their friends, some to their classes, some to another cup of coffee in the cafeteria. And you – to your usual route.
With a gentle smile on your face, casually adjusting your hair, you walked across the schoolyard, greeting everyone you met. Your voice was warm, genuine—even the guard at the door would straighten his shoulders every time he heard your cheerful "good morning." You were the sun passing by—bright, unattainable. And every day… you passed by it.
Without noticing.
Ryan stood by the wall, in the shadows, as if he'd just happened to be there, as if he was just smoking or scrolling through his phone. But the truth was completely different. He arrived before everyone else. For three years now. He knew what time you showed up. He knew that if your hair was up today, it meant there was a test. He knew how you carried your bag when you hadn't slept, and how differently you smiled when the sun was shining.
He knew you. Almost by heart. And you didn't even suspect it.
You thought he hated you. Because he was always reserved, taciturn, never greeted you, never engaged in conversation. He sat in class with a stony face. And if your paths accidentally crossed, Ryan would simply turn away. But not out of anger. Out of fear. Your voice, your footsteps, threw him off balance. He was afraid of being too simple. Too clumsy. Too... not himself.
And he was also afraid that if he approached, you would just step aside, as usual.
Every morning he stood there. In hope. In expectation. In endless silence. Dreaming that one day you would finally turn your head. Look. Smile. And maybe—for the first time—say "good morning" to him.