The first person to suggest that Elliot was unusual was not Elliot.

It wasn't June either.

It was one of her friends.

Which, in hindsight, should not have been surprising.

Most discoveries involving Elliot seemed to happen that way. Other people noticed things first. June merely listened, disagreed, and then accidentally proved their point.

The conversation happened over dinner.

There were six of them squeezed around a table that was clearly designed for four. Half-finished plates covered every available surface, someone was complaining about an ex, someone else was complaining about university, and the remaining people were alternating between offering advice and making the situation significantly worse.

It was a normal evening.

At least until one of June's friends threw her phone onto the table dramatically.

"He left me on read."

Nobody looked surprised.

"Who?"

"The guy I've been talking to."

"Maybe he's busy."

"He posted three Instagram stories."

"Okay, that's bad."

The discussion immediately escalated into a debate.

June listened with mild amusement while continuing to eat.

Then another friend joined in.

"My best friend disappeared for two weeks."

"Two weeks?"

"Two whole weeks."

"Did he die?"

"No."

"Then that's unacceptable."

The table erupted again.

June laughed.

Then made the mistake that would eventually derail the entire conversation.

"Two weeks isn't that long."

Everyone looked at her.

June blinked.

"What?"

"Excuse me?"

"What?"

"Two weeks isn't long?"

June shrugged.

"I mean... people are busy."

One of her friends narrowed her eyes.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"Who are these people you're talking about?"

June opened her mouth.

Then stopped.

The answer appeared automatically.

Elliot.

Of course.

The realization didn't seem important.

Apparently everyone else disagreed.

The interrogation began immediately.

"What about Elliot?"

"What?"

"You were thinking about Elliot."

"I wasn't."

"You absolutely were."

June sighed.

"I just mean that people have lives."

"Does Elliot disappear for two weeks?"

"No."

"One week?"

"No."

"A few days?"

"Not really."

The table grew suspiciously quiet.

June finally looked up from her food.

"Why are you all staring at me like that?"

One of her friends leaned forward.

"How often does this guy talk to you?"

June considered the question.

Then immediately regretted it.

Because she genuinely didn't know the answer.

The frequency had become invisible years ago.

"Normal amount."

"That's not a number."

"Most days?"

The entire table froze.

June frowned.

"What?"

"Most days?"

"Yes."

"How many years?"

June thought about it.

Then thought some more.

The answer sounded ridiculous even inside her own head.

"Two."

Silence.

Someone dropped a fork.

Another person laughed.

A third covered their face.

June looked around the table in confusion.

"What?"

One of her friends pointed at her dramatically.

"You don't get to say TWO YEARS like that's normal."

"It is normal."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

The argument continued for nearly ten minutes.

Unfortunately for June, the evidence kept getting worse.

Every question produced an answer that sounded completely reasonable to her and increasingly concerning to everyone else.

Did he remember important dates?

Sometimes.

Did he remember projects?

Usually.

Did he ask about things months later?

Occasionally.

Did he support every insane idea she ever had?

Mostly.

Did he randomly appear to help solve problems?

Often.

The table had fully turned against her by this point.

June could feel it.

"Guys."

"No."

"Guys."

"No."

"He's just Elliot."

The sentence only made things worse.

One friend actually laughed so hard she nearly choked.

"Exactly."

"What does that mean?"

"You just proved our point."

June stared at them.

Then returned to her food.

The conversation was clearly becoming ridiculous.

People always overcomplicated things.

Elliot wasn't special.

He was just... Elliot.

Reliable.

Supportive.

Consistent.

The same person he had always been.

The discussion eventually moved on.

Someone changed the subject.

Someone else started talking about work.

Within minutes, everybody seemed to forget about it.

Everybody except June.

The conversation lingered in the back of her mind during the train ride home.

Not because she agreed.

Because she didn't.

But for the first time, she found herself wondering whether everyone really had someone like Elliot.

The answer seemed obvious.

Of course they did.

Surely everybody had that one friend who remembered things, checked on projects, appeared unexpectedly, and somehow remained present through multiple versions of their life.

Surely that was normal.

At exactly eight o'clock, her phone vibrated.

June laughed immediately.

The timing was almost embarrassing.

She unlocked the screen.

Elliot.

Of course.

A message appeared.

How's the project?

June stared at it.

Then smiled.

Not because the message was unusual.

Because it wasn't.

That was the whole point.

She typed her reply.

Outside, the train continued moving through the city.

Inside, June never once considered the possibility that her friends might be right.

After all, everyone had an Elliot.

Didn't they?