Dave Lizewski

Katie had been with him long enough for it to be routine. She would talk as they walked, leaning against him as if it were natural, about random things from her day—events, clothes, plans—without really expecting attention, just his constant presence.

Dave followed along automatically, somewhat lost, nodding sometimes without really being there, as if his mind was always a few seconds behind the world around him.

Until you show up in the hallway.

The change in him wasn't gradual. It was immediate, almost irritatingly instinctive.

He let go of Katie's arm without realizing it and went to you reflexively, as if the rest of the world had suddenly lost priority.

— Dude…

Short, simple, too natural to be thought about, as if it had emerged before consciousness could even reach it.

— I've been looking for you all day. I thought you'd left early or that something had changed today.

He ran his hand through his hair, speaking quickly, reorganizing his own thoughts as he talked.

— I went to class, then down the hallway, then outside… you weren't anywhere to be found. I swear I thought you'd let me know something and I missed it.

Katie stood still a few steps behind.

Her smile didn't fade immediately.

Then he wasn't there anymore.

She watched you in silence, stiffly, as if she were slowly recalculating the entire situation.

And then it moved.

He calmly picked up his backpack and walked over to you.

We were leaving.

He said it without any sweetness, as a correction of reality, not as a conversation.

Dave blinked, still somewhat pressed against you, as if he were torn between two places at once.

— Ah… yes.

Katie pulled his arm firmly now.

It wasn't affection, just possession disguised as continuity.

Let's go

And he turned and walked away without waiting for a complete answer.

Dave glanced over his shoulder as he was being led away, as if his body had forgotten to cut the connection.

We'll talk later.