By the third day, Paulo being around didn't register as anything unusual anymore.
Not for me.
At this point, ghosts came and went often enough that I stopped reacting to their presence unless they were causing trouble. Paulo wasn't. He didn't linger too close, didn't carry that heavy, suffocating feeling most of them had when they were lost or angry. He just stayed within reach, quiet, composed, like someone who still had a routine even after everything had already ended for him.
And somehow, without anyone saying it out loud, he became part of ours.
Every time I stepped into the club room after class, I'd already see Alicia sitting on the floor with him, legs stretched out, leaning over whatever he was writing like she was afraid to miss anything. Millien would always be nearby, pretending not to care, but never actually leaving them alone.
Paulo had this way of teaching that didn't feel forced. He didn't rush her, didn't overwhelm her. He'd write slowly, explain things in a way that made sense even if you weren't trying that hard to understand, and Alicia… she followed. Not perfectly, not even close, but she stayed focused longer than I'd ever seen her do before.
I leaned against the doorframe one afternoon, watching them without interrupting.
"…you keep skipping this part," Paulo was saying, tapping lightly on the paper. "If you skip it, everything after gets confusing."
Alicia frowned at the numbers like they personally offended her. "But it looks boring."
"It is," he admitted, completely serious. "But you still need it."
That made her pause.
"…fine," she muttered, then tried again, slower this time.
Millien clicked his tongue softly from the side, like he approved but didn't want to say it out loud.
I pushed myself off the doorframe and stepped in, dropping my bag onto the chair.
"She giving you a hard time?" I asked.
Paulo glanced up briefly, then back to the paper. "She's trying."
Alicia immediately looked up at me. "I am trying!"
"Yeah, I can see that," I said, walking past them.
The lesson dragged on a bit longer, with Alicia getting distracted every now and then, but Paulo always pulled her back in without making it feel like a correction. By the time he finally set the pen down, she looked way too proud of what she managed to write.
Then, like it became part of their routine without anyone officially deciding it, Alicia reached into her small stash and pulled out a cookie.
Not just any cookie.
One of the ones I got from the system.
She held it out to him like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"For you," she said, smiling.
Paulo blinked, clearly not expecting it. "I… can't really...."
"You can," Alicia cut in confidently. "Try."
Millien leaned back slightly, watching.
Paulo hesitated, then reached out.
He hesitated at first since he already knew ghost like him couldn't eat. Alicia didn't react to that at all. She just pushed the cookie closer again, more insistent this time.
"Come on," she said.
He did.
And this time… he took a bite.
Barely, but enough.
There was a moment there, quiet and small, where even I paused from what I was doing just to watch it happen.
Paulo looked down at the cookie in his hand like he didn't quite believe it.
"…it works?" he said, more to himself than anyone else.
Alicia nodded proudly. "I told you."
He took a small bite again.
Then stilled.
The reaction wasn't loud or dramatic. If anything, it was subtle, but it was there. Something in his expression shifted, like he had just remembered something he didn't realize he missed.
"…thank you," he said softly.
Alicia grinned and leaned back on her hands, satisfied.
From then on, it became a habit.
Every time their little "lesson" ended, Alicia would hand him a cookie like it was his payment, and Paulo would accept it the same way, quieter each time, but never refusing.
It didn't take long before the rest of us started pulling him into things too.
Mostly because Gino refused to struggle alone.
One afternoon, he dropped his notebook onto the table with enough force to get everyone's attention, dragging his chair closer to me like I had the answer to all his problems.
"Anthony," he muttered, "help me with this before I lose it."
I didn't even look at the paper properly before pushing it back. "Not happening."
"You're useless," he shot back immediately, then turned his head slightly. "You."
Paulo looked up from where he was sitting, already halfway through another book.
"…me?"
"Yes, you," Gino said, sliding the notebook toward him. "Fix this."
Paulo stared at the problem for a few seconds, scanning it quietly. Then he reached for the pen without saying anything else.
He didn't rush it.
He rewrote parts of it, simplified the structure, broke it down piece by piece until what looked complicated a second ago started making sense just by looking at it.
"You don't need to do everything at once," he said while working. "Start here, then build from it."
Gino leaned in closer, following along, his expression slowly shifting from frustration to something closer to understanding.
"…that's it?" he asked after a while.
Paulo nodded slightly. "That's it."
I let out a small breath through my nose, leaning back in my chair.
"You've been stuck on that for how long?" I asked.
Gino didn't even glance at me. "Don't talk."
Sarah had already moved closer, watching the solution with interest, while Cynthia glanced over from the side, eyes narrowing just slightly as she took in how Paulo approached the problem.
It didn't take long before that became another routine too.
If someone got stuck, Paulo stepped in.
No hesitation.
No need to be asked twice.
But even with all of that, there were moments where he slipped back into something else entirely.
Whenever no one needed help, whenever the room quieted down and everyone was doing their own thing, Paulo would drift back to the shelves, pick up a book, and sit down like he had somewhere to be.
Not casually.
Not like he was just passing time.
Focused.
Like he was still trying to keep up with something.
I noticed it more than once, the way he'd reread sections, the way his attention didn't wander the same way it did when he was with Alicia.
One afternoon, I finally spoke without looking up from where I was sitting.
"You're still studying like it matters," I said.
There was a small pause.
I glanced over.
He had the book open, but his eyes weren't moving anymore.
"…it used to," he said quietly.
That wasn't really an answer.
But I didn't press him.
Not yet.
Because at this point, it was already obvious.
Paulo wasn't just staying because he didn't know where to go.
He was staying because there was still something he hadn't finished.
And sooner or later… we were going to have to figure out what that was.