Until We Fall

Invisible

The morning was colder than usual; the kind of cold that bites your nose and makes you wish you’d remembered to grab a hat. Most of the other students trudging to school were wrapped up in thick puffy jackets and scarves, some even wearing beanies that barely fit over their earbuds. But Cyrus? He didn’t mind the chill. Actually, he kind of liked it. There was something about cold, damp, and gray mornings that felt… poetic, he guessed. Made him feel more like an observer, like he was separate from everything going on around him.

He tugged on the collar of his old brown jacket and kept his head down, carefully avoiding groups of other kids so he wouldn’t have to join in their chatter. His breath fogged in front of him as he walked, watching other students laugh and huddle together. Typical Monday. Cyrus walked alone, just like he had for the past two weeks since he’d transferred to this school. Nobody really noticed him, and he couldn’t say he minded. Faking smiles and pretending to care about other people’s lives just wasn’t his thing.

When he finally slipped into his homeroom, the last bell had already rung, and Mr. Haynes, the balding literature teacher, gave him a quick, friendly smile. Cyrus ignored it, heading straight for the seat he’d claimed as his own—at the back, right by the window. Perfect spot to get lost in his thoughts without anyone bothering him. He could stare outside and not have to pretend to listen if he didn’t feel like it.

Mr. Haynes was talking about Pride and Prejudice today, something he’d clearly been looking forward to. But Cyrus tuned out. He knew he could pass any quiz or question they threw at him anyway. Right now, he was more interested in watching the wind toss leaves around outside. His eyes settled on a single leaf clinging to a branch by what seemed like pure stubbornness. The leaf twisted and fought against the wind, and for some reason, that struggle felt… familiar.

“Cyrus,” Mr. Haynes called.

For a second, Cyrus thought he’d been caught daydreaming, but Mr. Haynes only smiled and continued with the lesson. The guy was probably just happy that Cyrus could ace literature without having to put in much effort.

Cyrus returned his gaze to the leaf outside, letting Mr. Haynes’ voice fade into the background. The leaf kept clinging onto that branch like it had something to prove. The way it flailed around, getting battered by the wind, but still hanging on—it felt kind of inspiring, in a weird way. Or maybe it was just sad. He wasn’t really sure which.

The class droned on, Mr. Haynes going off about how Elizabeth Bennet wasn’t afraid to speak her mind or something like that. Cyrus knew the story. He’d read Pride and Prejudice a few years back when he’d randomly found it in his mom’s stack of “grown-up books.” He could see why Mr. Haynes liked it; he was the type of teacher who wanted you to “find yourself” in the books he assigned. Cyrus had no problem with the story, but right now, he had more interesting things to think about. Like that lone leaf, clinging on as if it was holding out for something better.

Before he knew it, the bell rang, snapping him out of his thoughts. Everyone scrambled out of their seats, tossing bags over their shoulders, laughing and yelling as they clattered out of the room. Cyrus stayed back, waiting for the crowd to thin out before heading to lunch. The cafeteria was already packed by the time he got there, with everyone settled into their usual spots. The noise level was at full volume, the place buzzing with energy that he had no interest in joining.

He grabbed a seat at the farthest corner table, the one by the wall where no one would bother him. Out of his bag, he pulled a sandwich wrapped in crinkled plastic, a red apple, and a bag of chips. He wasn’t all that hungry, but he figured he should eat something. He took a slow bite of his sandwich and looked around.

It was always the same scene: kids laughing, people chatting in their tight little groups. Across the room, one guy threw his head back, laughing way too loud. Another girl was practically glued to her phone, staring at her own reflection like she was trying to hypnotize herself. Some kids huddled close, probably sharing secrets they thought were too big to share with anyone else. Another kid was playing with his French fries and for one stupid reason or the other; he thought it’d be a good idea to stick some of it up his nose.

And then there was him. Eating his sandwich alone, invisible to everyone else, which he figured was fine. Being invisible was a lot easier than trying to belong.

He hadn’t even finished his sandwich when the cafeteria door swung open, and suddenly the room got louder. A group of kids burst in, laughing like they’d just shared the world’s funniest joke. They moved in a tight pack, energy radiating off them like they were some kind of celebrity entourage. Four girls and three guys. They took up space like they owned the room, and pretty much everyone’s eyes were on them.

Cyrus couldn’t help it; he looked up, too. His eyes fell on one girl in particular. She was at the center of the group, the kind of person who just… glowed. She had this wild, shoulder-length silver hair along with sparkling blue eyes, and she was holding onto one of the guys’ arms. The guy was tall and had broad shoulders, her boyfriend, probably. She laughed, throwing her head back with this loud, unapologetic sound that filled the whole room. It wasn’t a laugh you could ignore, and for most people, it probably would’ve been magnetic, maybe even contagious. But for Cyrus? It was just… too much. It felt like it was everywhere, filling up all the air around him, like she was sucking up all the oxygen in the room just by being there.

He quickly turned his focus back to his sandwich, chewing silently as he stared at the table. But the noise was hard to block out. Every so often, he caught bits and pieces of their conversation drifting over, and every time he’d catch himself glancing back up, just for a second.

Then he felt someone’s eyes on him. He looked up, but it was just his imagination. No one in the group was looking his way. Not even close. They didn’t even know he was there.

Cyrus sighed and pulled a book out of his bag, hoping it would help him disappear. Jane Eyre. He’d read it a million times, but it was an easy escape. He flipped to a random page and found himself on a passage:

‘I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh; it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God’s feet, equal—as we are! …Do you think I am an automaton?—a machine without feelings? … Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong!—I have as much soul as you,—and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you.’

“Great,” he muttered to himself. The words hit a little too close to home. He shut the book and let out a deep breath.

When the bell finally rang, he was the first out of the cafeteria, hoping to avoid any more eye contact or whatever awkward small talk he might accidentally walk into. But as soon as he stepped into the hallway, he almost collided with Mr. Haynes.

“Cyrus,” Mr. Haynes called, spotting him before he could duck away. Cyrus tried to act casual, even though he knew what was coming. Small talk. Questions. Probably something along the lines of “How are you liking the class?” or “How’s the new school treating you?”

“Yes, Mr. Haynes?” he muttered, wishing he could just fade into the wall.

Just how many people had wished that during their time in high school?

“I’ll be assigning a project soon,” Mr. Haynes said, smiling in that encouraging, overly optimistic way teachers had when they thought they were “inspiring” you.

“Okay,” Cyrus replied, trying to keep his face as blank as possible.

“It’s going to be an analysis of Romeo and Juliet,” Mr. Haynes continued, “and I’ll be pairing you all up. Thought I’d give you a heads up since… well, I know group work isn’t really your thing.”

Cyrus had to resist the urge to groan. Group work. The universe really had it out for him.

“In the last project,” Mr. Haynes went on, “you did some really impressive work. You’ve got a natural talent for these things, Cyrus. A real gift. I just hope you’ll let yourself show it a little more. You know, let that voice of yours come through.”

Cyrus clenched his jaw, giving a tight nod to let Mr. Haynes know he’d heard him. But “letting his voice come through” sounded like Mr. Haynes’ polite way of saying he wanted Cyrus to start acting like everyone else. No thanks.

Mr. Haynes finally took the hint. He gave a little nod and headed down the hallway. Cyrus exhaled in relief, slinging his bag higher on his shoulder as he headed toward his next class.

The rest of the day passed rather quickly. By the time he got home, he was ready to collapse, but of course, sleep didn’t come easy. He lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, the silence suffocating. All he could think about was the girl’s laugh, that wild sound echoing in his mind like a song he couldn’t shake.

Frustrated, he grabbed his old MP3 player from his nightstand, plugged in his earbuds, and scrolled through his playlist until he landed on something that would usually knock him out in seconds. He closed his eyes, letting the music fill his head, hoping it would drown out everything else.

But as he started to drift off, his mind wandered. Suddenly, he was walking down a long, empty path with a tall dark-haired boy beside him. Up ahead, he saw a girl with platinum blonde hair and bright blue eyes, smiling as she reached back to grab his hand, tugging him forward like she couldn’t wait to get wherever they were going. And to his left, a much shorter boy with dusty blonde hair was there, laughing with that easy, carefree smile Cyrus hadn’t seen in way too long.

But then, just as quickly as they’d appeared, they were gone. The girl, the two boys… all of them faded into the darkness, and he was alone again.

Cyrus’ eyes snapped open, and he realized there were tears on his face. He quickly wiped them away, sinking back into his pillow and closing his eyes, wishing he could drift off for real this time. But that familiar ache, that empty feeling, stayed with him.

Just like it always did.