Honey didn't say a word. Not a single one. The chatter around him—the whispers, the laughs, the clatter of pens—slid off him like water off glass. He kept his head slightly down, eyes fixed somewhere between the edge of his desk and the fading sunlight outside.
It wasn't that he didn't hear them. He heard everything. Every joke, every teasing remark, every low murmur from friends he barely trusted. But responding? No. Not today. Today, his silence was heavier than any words could be.
A few days had passed since that moment—the one where her voice had reached him, and his own heart had betrayed him with its sudden, sharp rhythm. He hadn't forgotten. Every sound in the room, every movement, every glance at the benches across felt like it carried a meaning only he noticed.
Even when Tanmay nudged Aryan and they burst into laughter at something Honey couldn't catch, he didn't flinch. Even when Puneet whispered a comment meant to draw him in, he remained still, his chest tight, mind racing, yet unmoving.
He didn't speak. He didn't even try. Silence was his shield, his way to keep the storm at bay. Every breath was careful, measured. Every heartbeat echoed louder than any word he could speak.
And so he sat there, quiet, invisible, yet painfully present—trapped in the memory of a name, a glance, a fleeting moment that
The classroom hummed with low chatter, the kind that filled the empty spaces between lessons. I didn't say a word—didn't even move much. My pencil hovered over the page, but I wasn't drawing. I was listening, letting the room exist around me.
Tanmay nudged Puneet, whispering something with a smirk I caught out of the corner of my eye. "Seriously, he thinks he's better than us? Always sitting there like he's… I don't know… untouchable."
Puneet snickered quietly, not bothering to lower his voice. "Yeah, like he's some kind of genius or something. Dude just draws all day. Who even cares?"
Aryan leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Honestly, it's hilarious. The way he freaks out if anyone looks at his sketchbook. Like, bro, it's not that deep."
I felt the words like tiny pricks, but I said nothing. My heart thudded in my chest, but my lips stayed sealed. I didn't want to join the conversation—I didn't want to give them the satisfaction.
Caz, who usually stayed quiet, added, almost lazily, "He's… weird. But not in a funny way. Just… always there, always watching. Creepy sometimes."
I kept my head down, staring at the blank corner of my page, imagining lines and shadows instead of faces. Every word, every whisper, floated around me, painting them exactly as they were. The so-called friends, the teasing, the hidden judgments—they were showing themselves slowly, in glimpses, and I didn't have to move to see it.
Even silence could be loud.
.
.
Tanmay leaned toward Aryan, voice low but dripping with mockery. "Have you seen him staring at people? Always scribbling, like some pathetic spy. Dude's obsessed with everyone but himself."
Aryan snorted, sharp. "Yeah, it's creepy. And that stupid smile he gives when we tease him… as if that fixes anything. Pathetic little freak."
Puneet laughed, a harsh, short laugh. "I don't get why he even shows up. Always lurking, always quiet… acting like he's better than us. Bro, wake up, nobody cares about your sketches."
I stayed frozen, heart thudding, hands gripping my sketchbook tighter. Every word pierced me, every laugh a cold arrow I couldn't dodge. My mind screamed, but my lips didn't move. My silence was the only thing left I could control.
Caz leaned closer to Tanmay, smirking, and whispered, "Honestly… he's weak. Can't handle a joke, can't handle attention, can't handle life. Just sitting there like a ghost, thinking he's untouchable."
The laughter bubbled up from their corner, cruel and sharp. I swallowed, forcing my face into neutral calm, but inside, my chest tightened with every syllable. Their words weren't jokes—they were knives.
Tanmay slammed his notebook shut, laughing loud enough for a few nearby students to glance over. "Man, imagine thinking your little sketches make you mysterious. You're just… a joke."
Puneet smirked. "Yeah. He's soft. Fragile. One wrong look and he'll crumble. Can't even defend himself. I don't get how he survives being in our class."
I stayed silent. I had nothing to say. I couldn't. All I could do was watch, record, and survive. Their true faces were exposed, raw and merciless, like a storm I couldn't escape.
Silence was my only armor now—but even that felt thin, as if their words were slowly slicing through it.
Tanmay leaned back, grinning at Aryan. "Bro, did you notice him this morning? Sitting there all stiff, staring at his sketchbook like it's some kind of treasure."
Aryan snorted. "Yeah… dude acts like he's in a different world or something. Always so… quiet."
Puneet rolled his eyes. "He barely even talks. Just sits there, drawing weird stuff all day. Like, what's the point?"
Kartikey shook his head, whispering with a smirk. "Honestly, it's kind of creepy sometimes. Makes you feel like he's watching everything we do."
Uday just leaned back, silent, observing without saying a word.
Tanmay nudged Puneet. "And those fake little smiles he gives when someone looks at him… man, it's so awkward."
Puneet chuckled. "Right? Like he's trying to act normal but failing miserably."
Aryan whispered, "I almost feel bad for him… almost. But then he does that 'lost in thought' thing and it's just sad."
Honey kept his head down, pretending to sketch, though his pencil barely moved. He listened, every word sinking in, cataloging the tones and laughs, the subtle ways they spoke about him.
Tanmay flicked a small piece of paper toward Honey. "Yo, you think hiding behind those doodles will save you? People notice, and not in a good way."
Puneet snorted. "Yeah, bro. You're basically invisible… and we kinda like it that way."
Honey stayed silent, letting the words roll over him, filing them away quietly while the others carried on, unaware of how their whispers stung.
Tanmay leaned closer to Aryan, voice low but edged with mockery. "Seriously, look at him… he's staring at that paper again. Bet he's drawing some sad little creature crying or something."
Aryan snickered. "Yeah, man… he probably thinks it makes him deep or mysterious. But honestly, it's kinda pathetic."
Puneet whispered, shaking his head. "I don't get it. He doesn't even talk to anyone, and when he does… it's like he's scared of words or something."
Kartikey smirked, flipping his pen between fingers. "Scared? Bro, he's terrified. You can see it in the way he flinches at every glance."
Tanmay grinned. "And the way he freezes if anyone actually calls him over… like, dude, just say hi. Or don't. Just stay that quiet little freak we all watch."
Puneet laughed quietly. "Yeah… freak. That's the perfect word. And the sad part? He probably thinks we're joking."
Aryan leaned back, whispering with a cruel smile. "Imagine being so obsessed with your drawings that you can't even exist normally. That's him. Every. Single. Day."
Honey's hand gripped the pencil tighter, pretending to sketch, though his lines were stiff, jagged. Every word burned in his ears, but he stayed frozen, silent. He couldn't respond, couldn't defend himself—he could only watch and absorb, letting their words carve their marks into his mind.
Tanmay flicked a paper at Honey's desk, laughing softly. "Oi, maybe one day he'll finally get it—he's just… background noise. Part of the scenery."
Puneet chuckled in agreement. "Yeah, background noise. And the sad thing? He doesn't even notice how everyone sees him."
Aryan smirked. "Poor guy… if only he knew. But hey, ignorance is bliss, right?"
Honey's head stayed down, pencil hovering over paper. He didn't move, didn't speak. Inside, though, his thoughts raced, his heart pounding. He hated every word, every smirk, every whisper—but the quiet had become his shield, his way of surviving these small, brutal truths.
Honey pushed the classroom door open slowly, a little early as usual. The quiet hum of the nearly empty room greeted him. He walked in, careful not to make much noise, his sketchbook tucked under his arm. Sunlight filtered through the windows, catching the dust in the air, and for a moment, it felt like the whole room was just his.
"Finally, some quiet," Honey muttered, sliding onto a bench near the front. Uday was already there, leaning back casually, his notebook open.
"Yeah, lucky timing," Uday replied, eyes flicking toward Honey's sketchbook. "So, what are you working on today?"
Honey flipped the cover, revealing a detailed drawing of Tsunade. "Tsunade… from Naruto. Tried giving her a different expression this time."
Uday leaned in, impressed. "Whoa… she looks real, man. The eyes especially—they've got a lot of life."
They shared a quiet laugh, discussing small details, shading, and proportions, completely absorbed in the sketch.
Across the room, the door opened again. Priyanshi stepped in, quietly, noticing the movement near the bench. Her eyes naturally fell on Honey's sketchbook and the soft murmuring with Uday. She didn't speak, just found a spot at her usual bench nearby, opening her bag, pretending to settle in while still watching them.
In a distracted moment, Honey adjusted the sketchbook—and it slipped, tumbling softly off the bench. It slid across the floor and came to rest near Priyanshi's feet. She picked it up silently, studying it for a moment, then walked over to Honey and handed it back.
"Oh… thanks," Honey said softly, a bit flustered.
Priyanshi tilted her head, eyes scanning the drawing. "Hmm… can I see it properly?"
Honey's heart skipped. He nodded, sliding it toward her just slightly. The quiet hum of the classroom seemed to shrink around them, leaving only the soft shuffle of papers and the distant ticking of the clock.
Priyanshi held the sketchbook gently, her fingers brushing over the edges of the paper. She glanced at Honey without saying anything at first, her eyes lingering on the details he had added to the eyes and expression.
"Your shading… here," she murmured, pointing at the corner of Tsunade's eye, "it's a little uneven. You can blend it better."
Honey froze for a second, surprised she was talking to him. "Ah… yeah, I see it. Thanks," he replied softly, trying not to sound too awkward.
She gave a faint nod, her eyes flicking back to the sketch. "The expression… it's good. Shows… feeling," she said quietly, her words slow but precise.
Honey's heart raced a little—he wasn't used to someone noticing these details and giving advice without making a big deal out of it. "Oh… thanks. Do you… draw too?" he asked carefully, trying not to sound too eager.
Priyanshi paused, her gaze on the sketchbook again. "Sometimes. Not much," she admitted softly. Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper, but firm in its own way.
Honey nodded, smiling faintly. "Could… you show me sometime? If you want, I mean."
She hesitated, glancing at him, then nodded very slightly. "Maybe."
The moment hung in the air—a small bridge between two quiet souls, built over pencils, paper, and careful words. Honey's chest felt heavy with excitement and nerves, but he kept his composure, slipping the sketchbook back into his bag.
The classroom remained mostly quiet around them. Uday had gone back to his notebook, pretending not to notice the subtle interaction. Priyanshi returned to her desk, opening her own notebook, but occasionally glanced toward Honey's bench, curious but reserved.
The bell hadn't rung yet, but Honey couldn't stop glancing at Priyanshi, his sketchbook open on the bench. His heart was still racing from their tiny exchange.
"I… um," he started, hesitating, "could you… draw some of these for me? Like… the same style?" His voice was low, careful, almost afraid of breaking the fragile silence.
Priyanshi looked at him, her eyes meeting his for a brief second. Then she nodded slowly, a small, almost imperceptible smile forming. "Yeah… I can," she said quietly, her tone soft but sure.
Honey exhaled softly, trying to steady his nerves. "Thanks… I really mean it."
From the other side, Uday peeked over and smirked. "Whoa, man… didn't know you'd get a yes that fast. She's usually… well, you know."
Honey felt his cheeks heat up but smiled faintly. "Yeah… I know."
Uday chuckled, returning to his own notebook. "Just don't mess it up now, or she'll never want to draw for you again."
Honey looked down at his sketchbook, feeling a mix of excitement and anxiety. For once, it wasn't just about drawing—it was about her noticing, about her agreeing. Something small, but… meaningful.
The rest of the morning passed quietly. Honey didn't overthink for once; he didn't spiral into the usual cloud of worries that often shadowed him. He walked through the corridors, exchanged a few ordinary greetings, and even smiled faintly at a joke Uday made.
By the time the bell rang for the next class, Honey felt… different. Not lighter, not completely free, but a little… normal. For the first time in days, maybe weeks, he wasn't lost in thoughts, wasn't tangled in what-ifs, wasn't doubting every small action or glance.
He glanced at Priyanshi once, and though she had returned to her quiet world at her bench, that small interaction stayed with him, warm and unspoken. The sketchbook sat in his bag, a small reminder of something good, simple, and real.
As he stepped out of the classroom and merged into the bustling corridors, Honey realized something subtle but important: today, he'd survived his thoughts. Today, he'd been… just a little happy. And that was enough.