You know that kid who daydreams wherever he is, regardless of the situation or time? Like, he just sits there during a test, you're pretty sure. Does he work? Does he do anything but daydream? Are you certain? Probably not. He probably doesn't even actually E X I S T outside of his own imagination. And you try to talk to him sometimes, but he's so... he's just odd, okay? Just an odd child.
And you two grow up, somehow. He remains the same, mostly. He gets taller. He was never anything but slim, but now he's got tone to his long arms. But he still daydreams. Even when he's talking and laughing and humming and trilling -- he trills! -- he's still daydreaming. How did he pass those classes? How is he in existence? What is he? Is he human? He claims otherwise, and you actually -- not enough to tell him so, nor yourself -- believe him.
It's the end of the day. You await your ride as he does his. You happen to be sitting on the bench outside, and he's standing beside the bench, as if he's some kid in the Sims who hasn't figured out he can sit just yet. Should you remind him of his social obligations? Should you remind him that he may be seated? You bite you lip in anticipation, trying to focus on the street, to see when your car arrives. He's not even looking at you, though you're sure he is paying you plenty of attention. Just not with his eyes. "Not the physical ones," you hear him reply to your thought, as he has to many other statements of the same gist.
"I was responding to you," he says. Your gaze jerks over to him.
"What?" you inquire hastily.
He grins, still looking at the street. Through the street. You're pretty sure he's watching a planet develop somewhere. "I answered you, just now. You didn't hear me say 'Not the physical ones..?'"
You're kind of shocked. You're pretty sure you never said anything. But this is the daydreaming kid who manages to move fast enough to disappear within the space of a blink, who can move things so smoothly you don't realise he's taken the liberty of adjusting the space of your shared desk so that everything is square and balanced, the kid who can balance anything on the side of his finger, the kid who makes teachers laugh and doubt themselves, who makes his peers question whether or not he is actually human.
He chuckles. "Sorry," he says. "Sometimes I'm so busy listening I hear what your heart and head are whispering about."