He had always been this quiet guy who apologized in the background of nothing. I could tell who he was and what was going on, because of Connor. My mom always made me look up mental disorders, to see if something more was wrong if he seemed worse.
I never knew he would be anything else.
I never thought about it really.
Until Sophmore year.
I noticed him looking at me. Only once or twice, but I also noticed him trying to talk to me, taking deep breaths and reaching to tap me, just to draw back. I started looking at him too, and noticed the little things. The way he tapped his foot and would draw little plants on his binder. The way he played with his backpack straps and hummed songs from Wicked.
But it never really started until this jazz band concert that we had in May. I don't think he noticed the window or the fact that I could see him pacing back and forth blowing on his hands and trying to stop his heavy breathing until the concert ended and he ran off.
I always wanted to talk to him too, but something held me back. Just maybe the fact the I thought he would be annoyed by me or that it was someone else who he was waiting for, or he just didn't get this problem so he tried to ask me but his anxiety took over.
The sneaking suspicion that he liked me wasn't enough for me to talk to him. And to be honest, it wasn't a big suspicion anyway. I really didn't think...
Anyway, he was a year above me, which meant going into Connors hallway and doing that again wouldn't go well.
But he changed my life.
And strangely, sort of for the worst.
And this is how it happened.