Closed Seen

[Alfred Gorbach]

He watched her go.
HE WATCHED HER GO.
Why?! He didn’t ask if she needed company, if she was okay, if she was in trouble. No. He just stood there like a lump and watched her leave.

Who does that?

Once he got back “home,” he used every ounce of effort to look normal, which honestly didn’t take much. Normal for him looked like being mad at the world, and he was very mad at the world for cutting their time short.

After saying no three times to Amelia, like, no, he wasn’t hungry, no, he didn’t want to talk, no, he didn’t want tea or any other beverage and yes, things were fine, he finally made it upstairs, slammed the door, then realized the noise would bring her back.
He caught the handle at the last second.

Collapsing on the bed, he stared at the saved number under the name L Technically, she hadn’t listed L among her acceptable nicknames. People deserved to be called what they wanted, and she had said LZ, not L.

He should text and ask if it was okay.
Oh, my God.
He had already called her L.

The thought sent him upright. He had literally said face the consequences, L types. What if she was offended? No, they were having a good time. She didn’t storm off. But what if she had just been polite?

“How long to wait after a friend gives you their number to not seem desperate?” He typed that into his search bar.

Multiple searches came up and all of them said the same thing. Texting on the same day definitely screamed desperation. Okay. He wasn’t going to argue with a bunch of internet strangers. But then... when was the right time?
“…to avoid seeming desperate after getting a friend’s number, it’s generally recommended to wait a day or two before texting. This allows for a natural progression of communication and avoids appearing overly eager.”
Right, makes sense.
“However, the best approach can depend on the specific context of your interaction.”
What does that mean? What was their context? A boy of questionable mental state chopping grass with a stick, rescued by the coolest scout in the region?

Some sites said three days. He couldn’t survive three days. He settled on two. Two days. That was the line.


_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________



After two nights of not sleeping, he could finally admit it to himself.
He wanted her to be his friend.
Desperately.
That time with her at the park had genuinely been the best he'd had since getting dumped here, and he had no idea what to do with himself.
He knew he couldn’t be himself, that much was clear to him, thanks to his parents of the year. But the thing was, he had been himself around her. Or so he thought, he wasn’t very sure who he was these days, but still, he’d been himself to the best of his knowledge and it was fine. So was it really that bad?
Except, being himself had said “You make me feel seen.”
He was pacing around his room. His phone confirmed that walking in circles could hit 10k steps.

You make me feel seen.
Oh. My. God.
OH MY GOD.
WHO SAYS THAT?
It sounded like something printed on a mug. He winced so hard it physically hurt.

Still... it had felt so right when he said it.
He opened up his search tab once again.

"Is saying you make me feel seen lame?"
He scrolled through the results:
“Wanting to feel seen.. why do compliments..” he didn’t even finish that one.
“When someone says you make me feel like is a statement of truth and that saying such as..” was that supposed to be legible? He kept scrolling.
"Do You Find It Unsettling to Feel Seen by Others?"
After a few more unhelpful titles he closed the tab. Okay. So either he hadn’t said some overused cheesy line... or he was the first idiot to ever come up with it. No way. He briefly considered asking a forum, but decided against it.

But two days had passed.
He found her contact. Selected "Start chat".
The dark background stared back.

Hello, how are you?
Typed. Deleted. Sounded like he was six and in his first English class.

Hiiiiii.
Deleted.

A few more false starts later, he settled on one word.

"Hey"
Sent.

He dropped his phone on his bed like it was scalding hot and immediately started pacing the room again. What if she gave the wrong number? What if she never texted back? What if he’d made a mistake?

He rushed back, double checked he hadn’t misspelled a three letter word, then tossed the phone away again.
Tried to act like the “Delivered” notification didn’t matter.

Time passed. He didn’t know how much. Two days had already felt like five years, so his sense of time was useless.
Then FINALLY.... a notification chimed.
His heart jumped.
Two strides and he dove for the bed like the floor was lava, elbows bracing, fingers fumbling for the phone.

“Your Digital Wellbeing report is ready. You used your phone 1 hour and 46 minutes mor..”
He didn’t even finish reading the stupid message before dropping the phone on the pillow and letting his head fall in despair.
He pondered if he screamed, would the blanket be sufficient enough to mask it? He didn’t try it.

But then another thought hit him. She couldn’t have known who wrote to her. What if she thought it was a scam? He quickly got his phone again.
It’s Alf
Last three letters got immediately deleted.
"It's John Doe.
How are you?"
Sent.
At the back of his mind, he did realize this kind of overthinking and spiraling couldn’t be normal or healthy, but he was rejected by the two people who were supposed to want him by default. And he didn’t have anyone else.
That leaves a mark.​

 

[Laura Zavaglia]

She felt a bit like Cinderella.

For a brief moment, Laura felt as though that perhaps that magic school wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. There had been, she had thought, proof that she could still make friends among the magically inclined. That they wouldn't all hate her just because she wasn't from a magical family.

Though perhaps it had been too soon to call it friendship. After all, he hadn't given her his name and she'd run off before getting his number in return. Maybe he was just humouring her and she'd bothered him far too much. But Laura had a feeling that wasn't really the case. He'd opened up and started talking loads more right before she'd had to go, after all. That was probably a good sign. The bell had tolled midnight (realistically it was more like three in the afternoon) and she'd run off leaving her phone number and with no way really to reach out herself.

Maybe the metaphor was stretching it a bit, but it seemed at least somewhat fitting.

Her aunt hadn't been mad, but had been concerned out of self preservation, and Laura wasn't blind to the resentful looks her mother threw in her aunt's direction. Really, she couldn't blame either of them if she was being charitable - and Laura was nothing if not charitable - but part of her wanted to scream about actually being the one who was having the worst time of it. She couldn't, of course, as that would only upset everyone more, including herself. Then she remembered the comment about making her mystery new maybe-friend feel seen and she understood better what he'd meant. If she made him feel seen, then he made her feel heard.

After a day or so, however, she half wondered if he'd actually contact her at all, or if she'd made a mistake with the number or something. She tried to put it aside while playing Saturday morning sports, played not as well as she usually did, and flopped onto her bed once she'd cleaned herself up with a sigh. Idly, she picked up her phone and spotted a message from an unknown number. Instinctively, she perked up, the scraped knee and bruised ego stinging a little less. She hoped it hadn't been sent too long ago, and quickly typed up a response.

>hi! soz was @ the oval. bit sore but ok. how r u?

She paused, before adding another message.

>didnt get busted 4 yellin in a tree? ; )

Laura was the first to admit she wasn't the greatest writer, which also seemed to translate to her message formatting. She wondered if she ought to be perhaps a little more formal and make sure all her spelling was the best it could be and that there weren't any mistakes, or as few mistakes as an eleven year old was likely to make. Perhaps it was just that she'd felt comfortable enough to not have to try to come off as anything other than her normal self. Besides, he'd actually messaged, which had to be a good sign. Right? Maybe he was a prince, which was why he did archery and hid his name and all those sorts of things. Well, princes probably didn't know how to hotwire lawnmowers, but Laura couldn't say that for sure. Maybe they did?

 

[Alfred Gorbach]

What’s up.
He should’ve gone with what’s up. That would’ve sounded way cooler than how are you, which still read like something straight out of My First English Book.

Second thing he realized, his phone sent way too many notifications. New songs from bands he barely listened to. New audiobooks on sale. Some dumb weather update about a town he wasn’t in. He spent a while digging through the settings, turning off everything that wasn’t Laura.

Then he put on his headphones, turned on one of his favorite bands, and lay flat on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He wasn’t actually going to admire the paintwork until L texted back. He just felt sick of himself.
She was just some girl.
He was being pathetic.
But he’d get a grip.
So what if she didn’t respond?
So what if she did?
He wouldn’t care.

The volume dipped, meaning there was a notification, but he didn’t check. Probably another update he’d missed disabling. Then another. He grabbed his phone and held it to his face.

2 new messages from L.

Yeah, forget the pathetic part. His heart launched into orbit, and he paused the music, so he could focus. Don’t ask how it works.

Deep exhale.
He opened them.

He was already smiling before the words even registered. And the way she wrote… if he ever texted like that to his dad, he'd have been disowned long before the letter came.

Once, during a competition trip to Sweden, his dad spammed him multiple texts in a row, like Don’t forget your passport. Stay hydrated. Don’t forget the permission to leave the country. Win. But he was already in the car with his trainer, so he quickly replied "dw, I got everything".

The fallout was immediate.
“DW???”
His dad ranted for ten full minutes about how “people are supposed to respect you,” and “what are you going to do with the three seconds you saved not typing two extra words?” and “you sound like a dropout,” and “no one wins gold being lazy”. He wasn’t sure how typing had anything to do with his ability to aim and shoot, but the shame had stayed.

So she was at the oval.
What oval?

He even checked an online English-Norwegian dictionary, but couldn’t get anything that wasn’t the shape or working space of the president of the United States. Neither sounded like a probable location, though she did mention her aunt worked at the Ministry.

It was probably slang. Something normal kids said. Something his peers would’ve known. Something he'd missed while learning how to be a machine.

Should he know this? Was this one of those obvious things? Would asking make him look stupid? It would.

His thumbs hovered over the keyboard.
“Nah, seems like you didn’t report me to the local authorities for public disturbance like a good, law abiding citizen, so thank you : )”

He hesitated. Then sent another one.
“What’s the oval?”​

 

[Laura Zavaglia]

Laura was antsy now after sending a reply, wondering if he thought she was just a little too casual. She instead distracted herself stretching, trying to at least give herself an outlet for her nervous energy. Here she was thinking she'd burned it all playing soccer. It had been some shoddy playing, to be fair, she'd been very easily tackled out of her one real attempt at kicking a goal and she just kept thinking about how she wouldn't be able to play anymore. How she had to lie about where she was going.

That had been the nicest thing about talking to the alleged John Doe (should she call him Robin Hood, she wondered?). Even if he wasn't going to be forthcoming, at least she didn't have to lie to him. Perhaps to the point of being painfully earnest, but so it just had to be. She fiddled with the bandage on her knee and almost fell over from her leg stretch when a notification buzzed. Laura smiled, her expression turning a little embarrassed at the question. When she'd first met EJ she'd had to translate some slang and common expressions, and she realised this was no different. Laura figured she'd happily take that over lying, though.

>well yea we gotta get arrested 2gether! thats the plan rite?

Quite possibly an example of how earnest she was being, but she paid it no mind.

>oval is my local park for sport. tho its not rly an oval shape we just call it that cuz footy. i was playin soccer. we lost : (
>tho its : ) now cuz u msged so thx!!!

Laura placed down her phone and buried her face in her pillow. Normally it was easy to make friends. Proximity kind of forced it over time and eventually acquaintances just became friends when they did enough stuff together. This was different. This time, she didn't have the benefit of convenience, but she very much wanted to make this work out. She didn't know if she was doing too much, or too little, and she wasn't exactly about to ask her mum for guidance. She'd manage, if she didn't annoy him first.

 

[Alfred Gorbach]

Alfie was confused for a second. What did football have to do with oval shapes?
Right. What he called football, others called soccer.
He would've noted how cool that was that she played it, but he was too busy staring at her messages, smiling and chest swelling with the same feeling he'd had at the park, that strange sense he didn't have a word for, other than it just felt good.
He felt good.
Not tolerated. Not managed, not expected to be at his best. Just... there and that was enough, even when he was at his worst.

He didn't know if he'd ever be able to give that back to her, but he knew he'd spend a long time trying. So there he was. lying in bed, swimming in all these overwhelming emotions, fully aware Laura could ask him to go to a metaphorical war and he'd be ready yesterday and yet he hadn't even told her his name.

But he was only human and humans were prone to flaws. It was a process, and he was far from okay. He just knew that ever since meeting her, he could at least entertain the idea that life might, eventually, not suck.
“I can always show up to the next game, yell some profanities, maybe bring my bow if you really need someone taken out. Just saying ^ ^”
She hadn't wanted to hear he was sorry about her dad, so he figured the same applied to losing games.
“By the way, do you mind if I call you L? I’ve got issues with the letter Z.”​

 

[Laura Zavaglia]

Despite being alone in her room, Laura found herself covering her face as she laughed again. It was a habit, but there was also a mild fear that if she was overheard, she'd have to explain herself. And as much as her mum was cool most of the time, Laura knew she'd lose it if she heard 'I met another magic kid and we're talking'. It made her want even more to not really be magic. Then everything would be okay. She'd miss out on meeting some cool people, sure, but then she wouldn't be making people unhappy so much by having to go practice magic. She probably didn't have it at all, really, so there shouldn't be any reason to go to boarding school for it...

The lights flickered as she thought that, and she ducked under a blanket to focus on her phone instead. That seemed to be becoming a bit more frequent of late, though it didn't seem there was anything wrong with the power. She frowned, before looking back down to type a response.

>i wouldnt get tackled if u brought ur bow so maybe! id def show u around if u visited tho!

Once again, she hesitated before hitting send anyway, a little worried she was overstepping. She was always so cautious not to be a bother. In saying that, she caught herself wondering instead if he had a favourite flavour of chips or icecream or if she could show him how to kick a goal in exchange for learning how to shoot an arrow. The latter definitely felt like overstepping. It felt wrong to ask for things, especially to a boy she barely knew.

>Ls ok! least it sounds kinda like a name. could even go ash if u rly want.

She paused, half typing out a question of what his actual name was before deleting it. If he told her, it was probably better in person. And maybe the fact that he didn't was a sort of warning not to push things.

>u up to much?

That was better. Nothing too prying, more just casual conversation. Which she still hated doing in text form, but it was better than nothing.

 

[Alfred Gorbach]

“I could definitely use a tour guide. I feel like I’m 5, walking around town with my aunt.” He felt comfortable enough to turn the music back on.

You're too cool to be called Ash.
Ash is for...
A couple of failed tries later, he gave up on finishing that thought and just took it as a fact that L was fine.

The next message wasn’t any easier to write. He probably couldn’t go with something like, “Patiently counting down the seconds until it didn’t seem desperate to text you.” Just then, a message from his mom popped up on the screen. He opened it.

Do you need more money? I can send you more, just ask.

He scoffed. First month he got there, there was utter silence. But lately she'd been texting more often, and it was always about money. These days he had more pocket money than he could’ve dreamed of back home, not that he spent much. From everything that had happened, he was starting to realize he could only trust himself. What if his aunt decided he was too much of a burden and sent him somewhere else too? Not worth the risk. He’d buy the latest console himself when he was grown up. Better to save up until he could stop being dependent on never-before-seen aunts in strange places and his parents unpredictable behavior.

That made him wonder for a second if he should finally reply and say yes, just so he could put more away, but decided he was too proud, so he went back to the chat with L.

That reminded him of something else. He should say it. Be honest. She probably wouldn’t care, but it was better to say it. Just in case.
“I was doing some thinking. I probably have to go to that school, so I wouldn’t be running away with you. But I’ll do everything I can to help you. And if we get caught, I can take the blame and go wherever else they decide to put me, totally fine.”​