The Jacket Return
Monday morning arrived cold and grey, the remnants of Friday’s snow clinging to the school paths in thin, dirty patches. Elias had spent the entire weekend with Theo’s team jacket draped over the back of his chair like a living thing. Every time he walked past it, the faint cedar scent drifted up, and his stomach would flip—soft, fluttering wings that made him dizzy. He’d stare at the jacket, fingers hovering, imagining handing it back in person: Theo’s hazel eyes meeting his, that small smile, the low voice saying his name again. The thought alone sent his heart racing so hard he had to sit down.
He couldn’t do it.
Not face-to-face.
Not when just thinking about it made butterflies erupt in his stomach like a storm of tiny wings, beating against his ribs until he could barely breathe.
So before first bell, when the corridors were still quiet, Elias crept to Theo’s locker. Standing on tiptoe, he opened the metal door (Theo never bothered locking it properly), placed the neatly folded jacket inside, and tucked a small note on top. His handwriting shook slightly on the torn page from his chemistry notebook:
*Thanks for the jacket. It helped a lot.
—Elias*
He closed the locker with trembling fingers, checked the empty hallway once more, then fled toward chemistry. His heart pounded in his ears the whole way, a wild, unsteady rhythm that didn’t slow even when he reached the safety of the lab bench.
By advanced maths that afternoon, Elias was a wreck. He sat at his usual window seat, notebook open, pencil gripped so tightly his knuckles whitened. He kept his eyes down, doodling frantic equilibrium arrows that looked more like nervous scribbles. Every time someone shifted in their chair, his stomach lurched, waiting for Theo to turn around.
Halfway through the lesson—while the teacher explained partial fractions and the room filled with the soft scratch of pens—Theo did turn.
Not fully. Just enough to look back over his shoulder, dark hair catching the pale winter light from the window. His gaze found Elias instantly.
Elias’s heart slammed against his ribs so violently he was sure everyone could hear it. Butterflies exploded in his stomach again—wild, frantic, fluttering so hard he felt faintly sick with nerves and something dangerously close to hope.
“Hey, Elias,” Theo said, voice low and warm, pitched just for him in the quiet room.
Elias looked up. His mouth went dry. He managed the tiniest nod, cheeks burning.
Theo lifted the folded jacket slightly from his lap, that small, crooked smile tugging at his lips—the one that always made Elias’s world tilt. “Found this in my locker this morning. With your note.”
Elias swallowed. His pulse thundered in his throat. The butterflies were everywhere now—stomach, chest, even the tips of his fingers tingling.
Theo’s smile softened, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Thanks for bringing it back. But…” He paused, voice dropping even quieter, almost teasing, almost gentle. “It would’ve been nice if you’d handed it over in person.”
The words landed like a soft touch. Elias felt his face flame hotter. His heart beat so fast it hurt—in the best, most terrifying way.
“I—” His voice cracked. He tried again, barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to… bother you.”
Theo shook his head once, small and sure. “You wouldn’t have.” He held Elias’s gaze for another heartbeat, then added softer, “Next time, just give it to me yourself, yeah? I don’t bite.”
He turned back to his notebook after that, but not before flashing one last quick glance over his shoulder—warm, amused, a little fond.
Elias stared at the back of Theo’s head for the rest of the lesson, heart still racing, butterflies refusing to settle. His hands shook as he tried to write. The classroom felt too small, the air too warm, the distance between their seats both impossible and suddenly, impossibly small.
Theo had noticed him.
Theo had said his name again.
Theo had wanted him to come in person.
And that simple, quiet wish—delivered with that gentle smile—was enough to keep the butterflies alive in Elias’s stomach for days.
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