Chapter 5 — Small Talk

I didn’t plan it.

That was the excuse I told myself, anyway. That I wasn’t trying anything. That I just happened to be nearby when he was alone.

Sora sat at his desk after class, flipping through his notebook without really reading it. Most of the room had already emptied out. Chairs scraped against the floor. Bags zipped shut. Voices faded into the hallway.

He stayed behind.

I lingered near my seat, pretending to organize my things. I watched him out of the corner of my eye.

He looked… dull.

Not sick. Not tired. Just slightly muted, like the world had turned the volume down on him alone. The edges of his uniform blurred faintly, especially when he moved.

My chest tightened.

I could walk away.

That would be easier. Safer. I’d been good at walking away my whole life.

Instead, my feet carried me forward before my mind caught up.

“Hey,” I said.

The word felt heavier than it should have.

Sora looked up, surprised again. “Oh. Hey.”

There it was. That same hesitation, like he wasn’t sure why I was talking to him.

I swallowed. “Did… did you understand the math homework?”

It was the simplest thing I could think of. The kind of question people asked without thinking.

Sora blinked. Then he laughed softly. “Not really. I think I messed up the last problem.”

As he spoke, something shifted.

The change was subtle, but I saw it. The faintness eased. His outline sharpened just a little, like a sketch gaining darker lines. Color returned to his cheeks, not fully, but enough that it startled me.

I forced myself to stay calm.

“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “Same. I kept getting a weird number.”

He grinned. “Right? I thought it was just me.”

We stood there, talking about homework. About how confusing the teacher’s explanation had been. About how unfair it was to give a quiz right before the weekend.

Nothing important.

Everything important.

The longer the conversation went on, the clearer he became. Not completely. Not like before. But enough that the wrongness eased, like pressure lifting from my ears.

Someone passed by the doorway and called Sora’s name.

“Sora! You coming?”

“Yeah,” he answered without hesitation. He looked back at me. “Thanks. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” I said.

He left the room, his footsteps solid, his presence steady.

I stood there alone, my heart beating faster than it had any right to.

My hands were shaking.

I hadn’t said his name this time.

I hadn’t done anything special.

I’d just talked to him.

The realization settled slowly, carefully, like something fragile being placed in my hands.

Being noticed mattered.

Being spoken to mattered.

For the first time, the strange heaviness that followed me everywhere felt lighter—not because I was fading less, but because something I did had changed something else.

I picked up my bag and headed for the door.

As I stepped into the hallway, surrounded by voices and movement, a quiet thought rose up, unfamiliar and unsettling in its warmth.

I had been useful.