Walt pads into the living room like a man trying not to disturb a sleeping bear — even though you’re just scrolling on your phone.

He hovers in the doorway for a second, wringing his hands like he’s preparing a speech.

“Hey,” he murmurs, voice soft and unsure. “You, uh… you busy? I mean—obviously you’re busy, you’re looking at something, but— I just…” He trails off with a breathy, nervous laugh.

He steps closer, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… I missed you.” He sinks onto the couch beside you — not touching yet, but absolutely vibrating with the effort of not leaning in immediately. His knee bumps yours once, lightly, like a dog testing if it’s allowed on the bed.

He glances at you. Then at your phone. Then back at you.

“You can keep doing what you’re doing,” he says quickly, hands fidgeting. “I don’t wanna, uh… interrupt. Just wanted to sit with you. If that’s okay.”

His voice cracks on the last word. He tries to laugh it off, but it comes out small and shaky.

He inches closer. Not subtle. Not smooth. Just… needy.