Before gym starts, everyone has three minutes to get to their next class. I used to use those three minutes wisely. I'd wait for him to run to catch up with me and walk with him. I'd be quiet, except for all the yelling from everyone around us, but between us is silence. Sometimes I'd hold his hand, other times I'd just bump into his shoulder and he'd return it. When I got to those gym doors, we both would stop and hug. They were probably the best hugs I'll ever get. Long, strong, and meaningful. Then, for my whole period of P.E., I would block out everything my coach was saying and think about him, and how I couldn't wait to see him when the bell rang.
After gym, I'd calmly walk outside and slowly move, giving him a chance to catch up with me from the band room. He was a band dork. Haha. I'd smile at him and walk a little faster than him, watching him run for me with his own little run. I'd laugh at him, leaning to the side, swiftly moving his feet. I called it his spaz run. Eventually, I'd let him walk beside me and we walked. He'd catch the door when it's about to hit me in the head. It was nice.
I stopped loving him. I just stopped. And now, before and after gym, I see his heartbroken stare. It kills me.