As the afternoon sun starts to dip, casting long shadows across the room, Mix moves through the now quiet classroom with a calm efficiency.
The once chaotic space, filled with laughter and the energetic shuffling of little feet, has dwindled down to a handful of children, their voices softer, their energy fading with the day.
Mix bends down, picking up small building blocks and scattered crayons, placing them neatly back into their bins. He moves to the tiny chairs, arranging them in neat rows, his hands moving automatically as his mind briefly drifts to the long night ahead of him. The reports and documents waiting for him at home seem to loom larger in his thoughts with every passing second. But he pushes that aside for now, focusing on tidying up the remnants of the day.
Just as he reaches for a stray toy car, a small voice pipes up, breaking the quiet rhythm of the room.
"I'll help you, Teacher Mix!" Edin’s voice is soft but determined, and when Mix glances over, he sees the little boy already reaching for a toy just out of his own reach.
Mix can’t help but smile, a warmth spreading through his chest at the sight. Edin’s always been eager to help, even when it means doing something as simple as putting toys away.
"Thank you for helping, Edin," Mix says gently, his voice full of appreciation as they place the last of the toys back into the cabinet.
He watches as Edin, so small yet so earnest, handles the task with the seriousness of someone much older. There's something heartwarming about his dedication—this tiny child, so willing to lend a hand without being asked. But as they finish, the room now looking pristine once more, Mix can’t ignore the fact that Edin is still here. His small figure stands in the middle of the empty classroom, the last to be picked up again.
A flicker of concern passes through Mix as he glances at the clock on the wall. The other children have long since gone home, scooped up by their parents, leaving Edin the only one left behind.
Still, it’s early yet.
Mix knows he can wait if he has to, but those reports and documents waiting for him at home gnaw at the back of his mind, a silent reminder of the workload he’ll have to tackle once he’s off the clock. He checks his watch—a reflex—before his gaze returns to Edin, standing there with his usual sweet expression, completely unbothered by the delay.
“Let’s sit down for a bit,” Mix says, trying to keep his voice light, though his mind is already making a mental list of how much work he’ll have to cram into the night ahead. Edin nods eagerly, climbing onto one of the chairs Mix had just arranged, his little legs swinging as he settles in.
For a moment, the room is quiet again, save for the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. Mix watches Edin, feeling a strange mixture of affection and concern swirl in his chest.
"Edin is not sad, Teacher Mix," Edin says suddenly, his voice soft but filled with a childlike clarity that stops Mix in his tracks. He looks over to see Edin smiling up at him, his small face so pure and genuine. It's as if the boy had sensed the concern that Mix was trying to hide behind his calm demeanor.
Mix feels a rush of emotion at Edin’s words.
How could someone so small, so young, have such a deep understanding of what’s happening around him?
It's not the first time Edin has caught him off guard with his perceptiveness. But this time, it's different. There's something in the way Edin looks at him now, as if the boy is not just thinking of himself, but of his father—of Earth, the man who, despite everything, is clearly the center of Edin’s world.
