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"window boy"

He was known to you as window boy. No, you didn't know his name, but even if you did, you would be drawn to call him by the nickname you had given him. 

You shared your first class together, sitting two rows apart with his facing yours, he sat in front of the window. In the mornings the light would shine through and give him a look as if he was surrounded by a halo of bright light; one slight move of his slim body, and the light was then shining straight into your eyes, causing little colored dots to cloud your vision for a bit.

You just liked to look at him sometimes. The way his hair would turn a golden brown in the light behind him, or the way the shadow of his black hoodie would cast shadows and shapes onto his face... You had to admit, he was pretty good looking, too. 

There were even times when you'd zone out, the blasé voice of the teacher in the background of your thoughts. Your eyes would be on him but your mind miles away, thinking about things that were unexplainable or gibberish.

With the zoning out came being caught by the boy himself, giving you a playful stare until your mind focused back into reality and the realization that staring at someone is not very polite.

Your face would flush, leading to a flash of embarrassment that made him smile and let out a laugh at your reaction. He never cared; he thought it was cute the way you'd overthink your reaction all the while trying to be as casual as possible.

You were always a thinker, over analyzing things and people in ways that had a tendency to sometimes be too much.  He knew this too, and would even sometimes crack a joke just to get you flustered to think of your reply or comeback.  He was someone special. One you don't see all the time. Quiet and attentive, confident and independent all at the same time. Like a jumbled piece of art, he was. Made of the perfect pieces yet nobody seemed to pay attention to as much he was worth. But he didn't seem to be fazed by the lack of socialization, but instead embraced it to become someone full of opportunities and stories that needed to be told to someone he could trust. 

You wondered what it could be like if you were that person. A best friend to the person who had none but seemed perfectly fine. He definitely was one of a kind, and you really liked that. It was surprising to you that nobody ever crowded around his desk to crack a joke or toss a tennis ball to him from across the room. It was surprising to you that he was so distanced from everybody, yet so similar.

Nobody seemed to want to get to know him. But you did, and you surprised yourself when you walked up to him and introduced yourself to the infamous window boy you'd known for a while. 

"I'm y/n," you'd said, placing your hand out to him to shake.

He took it, his hands slightly rough against your own. He smiled a warm smile you'd seen before and nodded as he took in your name.

He cleared his throat before saying his own, his voice clear and sweet like warm honey.

"I'm Shawn."

But you preferred window boy.