He Awoke in-

  She Awoke in-

  An Unfamiliar dream.

  A Familiar dream.

  A light breeze flowed into the classroom.

  “...”

  The View filled them with a sense of nostalgia

  A podium rested at the front, blocking a massive chalkboard bearing incoherent scribbles, perhaps a signature from an eccentric artist. The wood making up the room barely hid burns, scratches, and even dried blood. The podium mismatched to the rest of the room, made of lighter wood without many stains.

  To Its left, there was a bookshelf, empty of the books it was born to bear. Behind that, a large desk covered with the stains of a mug. Windows lined the left wall, their contents besmirching the nostalgic nature of the place.

  Not black. Not white. Not gray either. Nothing. Everything. It was an indistinguishable color from either, yet both at once. Despite being completely incomprehensible, it offered a chilling warmth. A slight breeze blew in, causing the air to stale. A song of sorts played just outside of the windows yet silence filled the room.

  The breeze made slight motion across the room, the warmth bathing the classroom in a motherly embrace. The music softly played, sounding as if droplets of water were playing the keys of a piano. the drumming of earth rang hollow gently across their ears. The horizon giving a scene of dawn, dusk, and twilight all at once.

  On the opposite wall from the windows was a door. The door was gently cracked open, the light of unimaginable color shone lightly beyond it.

  They couldn't bear to look at it. To face that would be too much. And so they turned away.

  Turning farther left were the desks, rising up sequentially.

  They began walking up the stairs, down the center aisle. The first row is laid out in front of them. Each row was raised, while the first was lowered. The chairs numbered 4 on each side. As they passed by these desks, their heart filled with both nostalgia and apathy. Continuing, the second row was uniform, raised to where the desks would line up with the top of the raised front row's head.

  He continued forward-

  She continued stagnant-

  Yet he remained stagnant

  Yet she moved Forward

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  They moved forward, reaching the 2nd and 3rd rows. Some had stains marked into them, others showed clear marks of burning, some marked with frost, one had the marks of words as if someone wrote so vigorously that it permanently scarred the desk.

  Reaching the 4th and final row, which Held 4 desks on the left and three on the right. The Leftmost desk filled them with a sense of annoyance. The image of a man who would call himself a hero flashed through their mind.

  Rolling their eyes, they turn to the right. The first desk of the row’s chairs was pushed in. It was the first to have their chair actually pushed in. The image of a girl with teal eyes that made one feel as if they were the most important person in the world flashed in their mind.

  Moving past the feelings that paraded around their heart, They walk further back, the opposite corner from the self proclaimed hero’s spot. The chair is out, however unlike the others, it's neat, as if the chair was pulled out and purposely set there. As if it had been saved for someone.

  There's a window on the wall next to the desk showing the same scenery, or lack thereof, as before. The desks window was metal, its seal undone, Opening with a slight push. The desk bared no marks of damage aside from faint residue of a marker that once spelled out a message.

  Turning towards the desk, The full classroom shows itself. The warm, gentle light blankets the room, Giving the room a sense of melancholy.

  He believed selfishly-

  She believed selflessly-

  That Good Things wouldn't come-

  That Good Things would come-

  And so, he remained alone

  And so she remained alone

  “This isn't my seat.”

  “There is no seat in this classroom meant for me.”

  “There never was, in any classroom.”

  “There's no seat that somebody saved for me. There’s none that someone would tell off someone for sitting in. I don't have a seat.”

  “In fact, I've never been in this classroom. Not once.”

  “But, I've read this book.”

  On the desk in front of them was a book.

  An Excuse for his actions-

  An explanation for Hers-

  A Narcissistic belief-

  A Selfless belief-

  For His Revenge-

  For Her Revenge-

  On the one He hates the most-

  On the one she hates the least-

  A leather bound, 8 centimeters thick book. A latch rests on the side, No author graces the book, bearing only a Title. Its Brown leather is engraved with four symbols on each corner: a flame, a cloud, a stone, and a droplet. Three more symbols grace each edge. On the middle left is a half moon, the top middle an eclipse, and on the right a half sun.

  The book is the only Object in the room. The chairs don't move, there's no chalk, only the Book.

  “And the door.”

  …

  “ Not yet. I've got time.”

  “I'll spend it reading, it's a hobby of mine, after all.”

  ”The door can wait can’t it? Nothing is going anywhere.”

  Turning their eyes away from the door they land on the book. The book seems to call back, tempting their hand to its latch.

  “I'll sit here, in this chair which was left out for someone else and read this book that's not meant for me. Front to Back, Back to Front. I'll read it as many times as it takes…”

  They stare at the cover, turning it as they say those lingering words.

  The turned cover reveals a page, containing a poem and the title.

  Dreading the bad-

  He turns the page-

  Fearing the good-

  The title echoes-

  Cherophobia.

  “I'm really the worst, aren't I?”

  they turn the page.

  The door left ajar, waiting patiently for their tale to end.