It had rained earlier.
The park benches were still damp in spots, and the air smelled like earth and sky, clean,
unsettled. Birds chirped like nothing ever went wrong in the world. But he knew
better.
The Logician sat beneath a tree, back resting against the bark, hoodie sleeves
pulled over his hands. He wasn't much for nature, really. But today the group
had decided to do an outdoor study session.
He'd agreed, reluctantly.
Now they
were scattered across the open space, Spark laying on a blanket and talking
instead of studying, Guardian handing out trail mix in neat little paper bags,
Commander pacing while reading a textbook aloud to no one in particular.
He had his own textbook open in front of him.
He wasn't reading it.
His eyes kept drifting, over people, over sky, over nothing.
He wasn't sad. Not exactly.
Just…aware.
Aware of how loud the world felt sometimes. How being surrounded didn't always feel like
connection. How he could be part of something and still feel like a peripheral.
And maybe that was fine.
He'd always lived in his head. Even as a kid, he'd ask questions that made teachers
pause. Not because he was trying to be difficult, he genuinely wanted to know
why the rules were the rules. Why we measure time the way we do. Why words mean what they mean.
The older he got, the less people answered.
So he started finding his own answers.
Logic was safe. Predictable. It didn't change its mind or ghost you on a Thursday night.
It didn't flinch when you got too intense. It just sat there, beautiful, structured, waiting to be unraveled.
People were harder.
Messier.
Still… he tried.
The others didn't always get him, but they didn't push him to change, either. Spark called him "The Philosopher." Guardian said he "felt deeply but explained it badly."
Mediator said nothing but always made room for him in every circle, physically
and emotionally.
He liked her for that.
Today, someone had brought a frisbee.
He hadn't thrown it. But he watched, eyes tracking the arc of it like it was a trajectory
problem.
Someone plopped down beside him.
Virtuoso.
Covered in grass stains. Grinning.
"You know if you get up and throw that thing once, you'll feel 38% better," he said,
half-joking.
Logician snorted. "Where's your data?"
Virtuoso tapped his temple. "Intuition. It counts."
He didn't argue. He kind of liked that logic could exist in odd shapes, too.
"Hey!" Spark shouted from across the field. "He smiled! Someone screenshot that!"
He rolled his eyes but didn't stop smiling.
Later, when they all packed up to leave, he walked a little behind the group. Just
enough distance to think.
Guardian dropped back to walk beside him. Said nothing.
Just handed him a thermos of tea.
He blinked. "You remembered?"
"You always bring coffee. You didn't today. So I did."
He stared at her.
Then took the thermos
"Thanks."
She just nodded and returned to the front.
He sat with that moment for a long time after.
That night, back in the dorm, someone knocked on his door.
"Goodnight," they said.
He responded with a soft "Night," but his mind was still tracing the way the group
moved, like constellations. Individual, but orbiting something bigger.
He didn't need to understand it all.
Maybe this was one of those beautiful, unquantifiable things.
Maybe, for once, he didn't have to analyze the why.
Just feel it.