The sound of quiet murmurs filled the hallways as students shuffled from one class to another, their footsteps and laughter echoing faintly off the walls. Greyson, the history teacher, sat at his desk, tapping a pen against his notebook absentmindedly. The topic for the day—World War I—was scrawled neatly on the board behind him, but his mind was somewhere else.
He could hear the faint flutter of wings behind him, and he smiled to himself. Artemis, Sterling’s ever-present owl, perched calmly by the window, surveying the room like she owned it. Though officially dubbed the “class pet” for Sterling’s English room next door, Artemis had taken quite a liking to hanging around Greyson’s class during her downtime. Not that he minded. Her silent company had grown comforting.
Greyson pushed his chair back and stood, stretching as he glanced at the clock. Lunchtime. The students would be bustling into the cafeteria soon, leaving the classrooms quiet. It was his favorite time of day—the quiet before the next wave of lessons. And, of course, the time he and Sterling spent together.
Just as he thought it, the door creaked open. Sterling entered, tapping his cane lightly as Artemis swooped over to land gracefully on his shoulder. Greyson’s eyes softened as he watched the owl settle, her wings folding neatly, while Sterling made his way into the room with practiced ease.
“You’re early,” Greyson said with a smile, leaning back against his desk.
Sterling’s head tilted slightly, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Couldn’t wait to get away from the kids. They wouldn’t stop arguing over which Shakespeare play was the most tragic.”
Greyson chuckled. “Let me guess, half of them insisted it was *Romeo and Juliet*?”
“Obviously,” Sterling said, his smile widening. He slowly made his way over to the chair by Greyson’s desk, his fingers brushing the edge of the table as he found his seat. “But I had a few passionate defenders of *Hamlet*, too.”
Greyson crossed his arms, watching Sterling get comfortable. He admired the way Sterling moved with such confidence, despite his blindness, relying on Artemis and his sharp instincts. It was something Greyson had noticed from the start—the way Sterling navigated the world with grace and a quiet strength that was easy to overlook.
Artemis gave a soft hoot, fluffing her feathers as she eyed Greyson from her new perch on Sterling’s shoulder. Sterling reached up, gently stroking her chest, the motion so natural it seemed second nature.
“Rough morning?” Greyson asked after a moment, his voice quieter now.
Sterling nodded, though the smile never left his face. “You could say that. Teaching a bunch of hormonal teenagers the beauty of iambic pentameter has its challenges.”
Greyson laughed, the sound light and genuine. “I can imagine.”
He moved around the desk and pulled a chair closer, sitting beside Sterling. The two of them had found a comfortable rhythm over the past few months—stolen moments in the middle of the day, lunches spent talking about everything from their classes to the most absurd questions their students had asked. Greyson had come to look forward to these moments, even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud.
“I think I might’ve lost them during *Julius Caesar*,” Sterling continued, shaking his head slightly. “I can feel their eyes glazing over every time I mention Brutus.”
“Maybe you should try throwing in a sword fight,” Greyson suggested, grinning. “That always gets their attention.”
Sterling smirked, though there was a thoughtful look on his face. “That’s not a terrible idea, actually. You think you could lend me one of your historical battle reenactments?”
Greyson raised an eyebrow. “You’d trust me to lead a classroom of English students through a Roman betrayal?”
“I trust you with a lot more than that,” Sterling replied, his tone soft but steady.
The words hung in the air for a moment, the casual humor of the conversation giving way to something deeper. Greyson glanced at Sterling, who was still absently stroking Artemis, his face calm but focused, like he knew exactly what Greyson was thinking.
There was something about Sterling’s presence—quiet, constant—that always managed to ground Greyson, even when the day felt chaotic. And, as much as Greyson liked to pretend he was indifferent to the world around him, he couldn’t deny that Sterling’s company had become something he needed, more than he’d realized.
“I don’t know how you do it,” Greyson said softly, breaking the silence. “Balancing everything so easily. You always seem so in control.”
Sterling tilted his head slightly, turning his attention toward Greyson as if he could see right through him. “I wouldn’t say I’m always in control. It’s just… practice. You learn to adapt.”
Greyson leaned back in his chair, his gaze lingering on Sterling’s calm expression. He had always been fascinated by Sterling’s ability to take things in stride, to navigate the world with such grace despite the challenges he faced. It was something Greyson admired more than he let on.
“I think you do more than just adapt,” Greyson said quietly.
Sterling’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “And I think you give me more credit than I deserve.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the soft hoots of Artemis the only sound in the room. Greyson glanced out the window, watching the branches of the trees sway in the breeze. It was peaceful, this moment—just the two of them, no need for words, no students demanding their attention. It was easy.
Sterling shifted slightly in his chair, turning his head toward Greyson. “You don’t give yourself enough credit either, you know. You’ve got a way with the kids. They respect you.”
Greyson scoffed, though there was no real edge to it. “Respect me? They think I’m the Grim Reaper in a suit.”
Sterling laughed, a soft, melodic sound that Greyson had come to love. “Maybe. But that doesn’t mean they don’t listen.”
There was a pause, and Greyson felt the weight of Sterling’s words settle over him. He’d always been hard on himself—expecting perfection, even when it wasn’t necessary. But Sterling’s gentle confidence in him was something he couldn’t quite ignore.
“I listen, too,” Sterling added quietly, his voice just above a whisper.
Greyson looked at him, his chest tightening for a brief moment. There was something in the way Sterling said it, like he wasn’t just talking about their students. Greyson had grown used to hiding his feelings, brushing them off as if they didn’t matter. But with Sterling, it was different. There was no hiding here, not when Sterling could see through him in ways no one else ever had.
“I know you do,” Greyson replied softly.
Sterling smiled, a soft, almost invisible smile that spoke more than words could. Artemis ruffled her feathers, as if sensing the shift in the room’s energy, her large eyes blinking slowly as she gazed between them.
The quiet between them stretched on, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that came when two people understood each other without needing to fill the space with unnecessary words. In that moment, the noise of the outside world faded away, leaving just Greyson, Sterling, and Artemis—perfectly in tune.
