Alice sat alone in the back corner of the lecture hall, one leg folded beneath the other and arms crossed carelessly. The room had begun to fill with students who chatted in short bursts, fearful of drawing unwanted attention.
She focused on the chair across from her—Curt's seat.
She didn't realise how much space he occupied until it was empty.
The memory of Curt Jackson came back without warning—sharp and alive.
The first time she saw him, he was strolling across the field as if it had been created specifically for him. he was Loud and almost cocky. Laughing at anything someone said and waving too vigorously. She rolled her eyes, half amused and partly angry. He was the type of guy who became aware he was being watched and actively participated in it.
She never meant to like him.
But then came that rainy Thursday, when the lab partner list was disorganised, and he slid into the seat beside her, cracking jokes before he'd started writing his book.
"Guess you're stuck with me," he'd said with a smirk.
And she'd just barely smiled, trying not to give him the satisfaction.
But somehow, by the end of that lab session, she was laughing at jokes that weren't funny and glancing at him more than once when he wasn't looking.
They were not in a passionate relationship and did not hang out after class. However, he began to appear beside her more frequently. He positioned himself as a familiar presence that entered quietly and lingered longer than anticipated.
She missed how he carelessly placed his bag under the desk. Curt whistled under his breath while taking notes. He uttered her name as if it caught him off guard.
She didn't know when admiration turned to something softer. It was slow. Like water shaping stone. A shift she didn't notice until it had already happened.
And now he was gone.
The classroom noise faded away, replaced by a silence she couldn't identify. Not a grief, but something close, something hollow.
She stared again at the empty chair.
Where are you, Curt? She whispered.
And why does it feel like I already miss you?
A slight shuffling at the lecture hall door interrupted her thoughts.
She turned to see Jill coming in softly, her eyes scanning until they met. Her steps were careful, and she was unsure whether she belonged in the room.
Alice sat upright.
"Jill?" she whispered, surprised. "What are you doing here? "I thought you'd be in class."
Jill gave a slight nod, sliding into the seat beside her. "I couldn't stay away. I was worried about you."
Alice studied her face, her voice warm and gentle. "Are you okay?"
Jill hesitated, then gave a soft smile. "I should be asking you that."
Alice raised an eyebrow. "Me?"
"I know Curt's disappearance hit you harder than you're letting on," she remarked. "You two were close."
Alice looked down and picked at the edge of her sleeve. "Yeah."
"You miss him?" Jill asked.
Alice didn't answer right away. Her voice, when it came, was quiet. "He was… kind to me. In a way, most people aren't."
Jill waited patiently and gave her some space.
Alice continued, her gaze unfocused, like she was seeing another time.
"There was this day last semester," Alice said quietly. "It felt like everything was falling apart. I'd just learned I had failed an exam—and not just any exam, but the one I thought I had aced. I knew my answers were accurate. I studied hard. I showed up for classes. I completed the assignment. So, seeing the 'F'... it felt like the ground had gone out from under me."
Jill tilted her head and listened closely.
"And then my mum called," Alice continued. "Crying again. Blaming me without mentioning it directly. I was carrying all these thoughts in my head, and I guess I wasn't disguising them effectively."
She looked away as if repeating the event in her head. "I sat alone. I didn't have the energy to cry. And suddenly, Curt appeared out of nowhere. He didn't say anything at first; he just sat with me as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He put up a half-eaten granola bar like a peace gift.
Jill smiled slightly. Alice did, too.
"I didn't want it," she replied. "I nearly snapped at him. But he did not press. "He just stayed."
She glanced at Jill, her voice softening.
"And then he said, 'You don't have to talk if you don't want. Just chew on something until the world stops shaking."
Jill gave a soft laugh.
"But later," Alice continued, "when I finally told him what happened—that I had failed Biology, which I thought I had passed—he didn't laugh it off. He listened. Then he asked if I wanted to call for a re-mark."
Jill lifted an eyebrow. "That's a big move."
"I know," Alice nodded. "I was terrified. Everyone talks about the risks—how they could backfire and mark you even harder. I was scared it'd just make things worse. But Curt, he looked at me and said, 'If you know your worth, fight for it. I'll help.'"
There was a beat of silence.
"He gave me the courage to go through with it. He even helped me write the request. When the results came back, I'd passed. Not barely either—like, properly passed. They made a mistake."
Jill exhaled, almost in amazement.
"That moment changed everything for me," Alice said. "Not just because I passed, but because someone believed in me when I was about to stop believing in myself. That's when I knew I could trust him. That I had someone I could lean on."
She smiled again, softer this time. "That's when I began calling him my buddy. He didn't even ask—I said it one day, and he went with it."
"Were you two… dating?" Jill asked, her tone light and flirtatious.
Alice blinked, then scoffed. "No. God, no."
Jill lifted an eyebrow. "Why say 'God, no'? "That seemed defensive."
Alice smirked. "Not like that. "I mean..." I've never had intense feelings for him, but he's a nice person. He was not a crush. "He was just Curt."
She paused, chewing her lip, before saying, "He was easy to chat with. Friendly. Kind in a natural, unforced way. You didn't feel the need to impress him. "He just made room for people."
Jill's voice softened as she nodded. "That's rare."
"Yeah," Alice said. "It is."
They sat silently again, allowing the room to breathe around them. The lecture hall had emptied further. Just a few scattered students remained. The sunlight filtered gently through the tall windows, casting pale gold on the floors.
Jill looked through the open window and froze in amazement. In the distance, she noticed Curt Jackson staring at her. She turned away from the window and returned to Alice, who was intensely focused on her notes.
She gently patted Alice on the shoulder and pointed to where she had seen Curt, but he was gone.
"What is it?" Alice asked.
"I thought I saw Curt," Jill replied gently.
"Where?" Alice enquired, glancing up.
"He was staring at me from a distance," Jill responded.
Alice followed Jill's gaze before returning to her with a raised brow.
"You are tired, my friend. "Your eyes are playing tricks on you," she replied with a faint grin before returning to her notes.
Jill remained still, confusion written on her face as she stared out the window. Her breath slowed, and her gaze drifted to the floor.
A gentle breeze blew through an open window, rustling the edges of Alice's notebook. The silent scribble of her pen was the only sound in the room.
Jill blinked many times before slowly turning away. Maybe Alice was right. Perhaps she was simply tired. But the way Curt had looked at her—if he had been there—was too real to ignore.
She leaned back in her chair, lost in concentration, the distant buzz of the world outside receding into the distance.
Alice looked at her again, her eyes gentle with compassion, but said nothing.
The window remained open, with the sky outside stretching endlessly wide, still, and watchful.