Larry has been finding gifts.
For almost two months now, starting in late January, twice a week every week without fail he'd open his locker to find something small lying atop his books or his messy sketches.
The first time he found something in his locker, it was a small, smooth pebble.
At first, he thought it was a joke. Maybe Ash or Sally had slipped it in as some weird prank. But when they both swore up and down they had no idea where it came from, so he decided to let it go. It was just a rock, after all.
The second time, it was a little bracelet made of colorful thread.
"Okay, seriously, what the hell is this?" Larry had said, holding it up during lunch.
Ash had snatched it out of his hand, squinting at the careful knots. "Whoever made this is good. Did you piss off some Girl Scouts recently?"
The gifts were always small — just enough to catch his attention.
It wasn't long before the gifts became a regular thing: a pebble here, a bracelet there, folded papers, even a really thin carved piece of wood once. They weren't flashy, but there was something so… specific about them.
Naturally, the others caught on quickly.
"Dude, you've got a secret admirer!" Sal teased one afternoon, leaning against the locker opposite Larry's.
"Shut up," he'd muttered, stuffing the newest gift — a black and red beaded bracelet — into the back of his locker. "It's probably some weirdo messing with me."
Ash crossed her arms, smirking. "Right, because random weirdos always give out free jewelry. Face it, Lar, you've got someone following you around."
Todd had adjusted his glasses, looking amused. "I think Ash is onto something. Besides, we could figure out who they are if we wanted to."
"Pass," Larry said quickly, though his ears had burned at the idea of it. "They're probably just gonna get bored and stop eventually."
They didn't.
So far, he'd found three brightly colored origami hearts with doodles sketched along the edges, two needle-felted animals (a ferret and a bear) atop his locker, a polaroid of the moon and stars, three thin bracelets (so they fit through the locker vents), and — most memorably — a bag of painted pebbles, placed on top of his locker instead of inside, for obvious reasons.
That last one had earned his mysterious gifter the nickname "Penguin," courtesy of Sally, who'd laughed and said, "Looks like someone's courting you, penguin-style, man."
He had rolled his eyes at the time, stuffing the bag of pebbles into his backpack — his fifth gift — and brushing it off as a weird coincidence. He was still so sure that he didn't have a 'secret admirer'. He'd figured it had to be one of his friends pulling an elaborate prank. Who else would bother? And this often? It had to be a joke, right?
That notion had fallen apart when he got the first sketch.
First of all, it was the Friday before Valentines, and it had a little heart sticker on it. Second of all, none of his friends drew like this.
Anyone else might've looked at it and just seen a simple drawing of Larry frowning down at a book, but he knew better, both because he was the subject and because he was an artist.
He could see all the little corrections they'd made. The spots where they'd erased his nose and eyes over and over, redrawing them each time until they were just right. He could tell by the way they'd painstakingly layered his hair, every strand intentional, like they'd gone back and forth a dozen times to get it to lay naturally. The book in front of him had been smudged on purpose, the focus drawn away from it and redirected entirely to him.
They'd hatched lines through his hair and clothes to mimic their dark colors, even shaded beneath his eyes to capture his near-permanent eyebags.
Between all of that and a thousand other small details, he couldn't deny it anymore: someone was putting in the effort. Someone was paying attention.
Yeah, he believed he was being courted.
Why they couldn't just walk up to him and ask him out like a normal person was beyond him, but maybe they were just…
"Really shy, huh?"
He didn't even realize he'd said the thought out loud until Ash snorted, spinning around in her seat at lunch to grin at him. Her eyes practically sparkled, like a cat that had spotted a laser pointer.
"Who's shy?" Sally asked, looking up from his tray. Todd raised a curious brow, already sensing trouble.
"Larry thinks his secret admirer is shyyyy," Ash said, dragging out the word like she couldn't believe it. "They've only been stuffing gifts in his locker for months. Totally screams timid, right?"
He groaned, burying his face in his hands. "You're the worst, you know that?"
"Oh, I'm the worst?" she shot back, leaning forward with a devilish grin. "You've been hoarding drawings like they're classified documents and didn't think to show us? You just kept them to yourself like some blushing maiden in a romance novel?"
Sally laughed, nearly choking on his milk and having to quickly adjust his prosthetic. Todd looked like he was trying not to laugh but failing miserably.
"I didn't show you because they're mine," He huffed, his face growing warm. "You've already seen the rest of the stuff. The sketches are... different."
Ash raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Different how? Romantic? Sappy?" A sly grin split her face. "Do they write poetry on the back~?"
"I just think they're just personal, okay?"
That got their attention. Todd paused mid-bite, his curiosity obvious. Sally leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.
"Personal how?" he asked, his tone gentler. "Like, they're drawing stuff just for you?"
Larry hesitated, his fingers brushing over the bump in his patched-up jacket pocket, where he'd shoved a couple of the drawings in for some unknown reason. He'd meant to keep the sketches to himself, but now they were curious. And maybe… maybe he wanted to share. Just a little.
With a heavy sigh, he reached into his pocket and carefully pulled out one of the folded sketches. "Fine. But don't make it weird, okay?"
He laid it carefully on the table, smoothing out the creases.
Sally leaned closer. Ash stopped, jab visibly dying in her throat. Even Todd shifted his glasses, clearly interested.
"Whoa," Ash said finally. "They're, like… good."
He snorted. "Thanks, Ash. I couldn't tell."
"No, seriously," Sally said, tracing a finger above the page like he didn't want to smudge it. "This isn't just 'good.' It's, like, obsessive good. Look at all these details, dude, this is way more than a crush. They've been studying you."
He tensed, sudden unease swirling in his guts. He'd never really thought about it as studying, but now that the term was in his head… "You don't think it's creepy, right?"
Todd pressed his fingers against the edge of the paper and slid it over to himself, studying the sketch. "Not creepy. Specific. They're clearly invested in you as their subject, but there's no malice in it. If anything, it's… admiring."
"More like romantic," Ash said with a waggle of her eyebrows. "Larry's got a secret admirer who's totally into him."
He felt his face heat up again, but this time he didn't snap back. Because now that she said it, he couldn't help but wonder: how long had they been watching him? Long enough to get his expressions down this well is for sure, to catch the exact slouch of his shoulders or the way he tapped his pencil during lectures.
And if they'd noticed all that… what else had they noticed?
Suddenly he started feeling embarrassed about all the stupid shit he'd done thinking no one was paying attention. Shit, they could be watching him share their drawings right now.
It was that thought that made him pick the paper back up, subconsciously rubbing his thumb against the doodled spirals that littered the corner. They did that a lot, he'd noticed. Spirals, flowers, moons, stars, butterflies — they were doodled into the corner of every single one of the drawings he'd gotten.
His thumb followed one of the spirals, tracing its loops like he could wind his way into Penguin's head, figure out what had possessed them to put this much thought into him. It was stupid, but these tiny details made him feel… known. Like whoever this was, they weren't just sketching him, they were watching, paying attention. And not in the way most people did. It wasn't just his messy hair or his ratty band shirts they saw; it was something deeper.
The idea made his stomach churn in a way he couldn't quite place. Maybe he wasn't used to being seen like this. People saw him as loud, laid-back, and maybe a little too quick to crack a joke when things got serious. They saw the surface-level Larry, the one who made his friends laugh and who didn't let anything stick for too long, who came to class with the smell of weed clinging to him even after he tried to drown it in fabric sprays. But Penguin? They were sketching the parts of him that didn't usually make it past the noise.
His brows furrowed, and he tapped the edge of the paper against his palm, a faint heat creeping up the back of his neck. Why me? Of all the people in the world, why focus on some dude who spent more time arguing with teachers than passing his classes? What did they see that made all this effort worth it?
It was weird, feeling like you mattered to someone you didn't even know. But it wasn't a bad weird. If anything, it was the kind of weird that lingered in the best way — like hearing the chorus of a song that stuck in your head long after it ended.
Every line and detail of the drawings told him something about the person who made them, someone who'd taken the time to see him.
He stared at the spirals a little longer, thumb brushing over them once more. He didn't hear his friend's snickering when his lips curled into a small smile.
Whoever they were, they'd been paying attention in a way no one else had before.
And that attention… it made him feel seen.