The place hadn’t changed.

  The small park sat tucked between apartment blocks, half-forgotten by the city. A couple of broken benches, a flickering streetlamp, and a vending machine that rarely worked. It wasn’t special… which was exactly why we always used it.

  I arrived a few minutes early and leaned against the railing, watching the sky darken. The evening air was cool, carrying distant traffic noise and the hum of the city settling in for the night.

  “Still early, huh?”

  I didn’t turn around. “You’re late.”

  A laugh followed, casual and familiar. “By two minutes. That’s basically on time.”

  He stepped into view, hands in his pockets, looking exactly the same as always. Same messy hair. Same relaxed posture. Same annoying confidence that came from knowing more than he let on.

  “You look tired,” he said, glancing at my face. “Bad day?”

  “Normal day,” I replied. “Those are exhausting.”

  He snorted and dropped onto one of the benches. “Figures. You always say that when something’s bothering you.”

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  I shrugged. “You called me here. What’s up?”

  He tilted his head, studying me for a moment longer than necessary. Then he smiled, easy and harmless. “Can’t I just want to hang out?”

  I gave him a flat look.

  “…Okay, fine,” he sighed. “You’re no fun. I just wanted to check something.”

  My fingers twitched slightly. “Check what?”

  “You,” he said simply. “You’ve been… off lately.”

  There it was. Not an accusation. Not a threat. Just an observation.

  I leaned back against the railing. “Define off.”

  He chuckled. “Hard to explain. It’s like you’re here, but not really. Like you’re juggling something heavy and pretending it’s nothing.”

  I said nothing.

  After a moment, he waved a hand. “Relax. I’m not accusing you of anything. If you’re hiding something, that’s your business.”

  That earned him a sideways glance. “That’s unusually mature of you.”

  “Hey,” he grinned. “I can be mature. Sometimes.”

  Silence settled between us, comfortable and unforced. The vending machine hummed behind us. Somewhere nearby, someone laughed too loudly.

  “You know,” he added casually, “if you ever need help with… stuff. You know where to find me.”

  I met his eyes this time.

  There was no pressure there. No curiosity pushing too far. Just familiarity. Trust.

  “…Yeah,” I said quietly. “I know.”

  He stretched his arms and stood. “Good. That’s all I wanted to hear.”

  As he walked past me, he paused for half a second.

  “Oh, and try not to overthink things. You’re bad at hiding when you do.”

  Ren left then, hands in his pockets, whistling softly as if nothing important had happened.

  I stayed there a while longer, staring at the darkening sky.

  No secrets revealed. No alarms triggered.

  But somehow… I felt less alone.

  And that, strangely enough, made things more complicated.