Brennan rolled to a slow stop near the edge of the skatepark, board tapping lightly against the concrete as he looked around. This place was bigger than the one they usually went to—wider bowls, longer rails, more open space. The sun was sinking low, bleeding orange and purple into the sky, and the air had that calm, end-of-day softness he liked. From a small distance, Brennan and they watched as the last serious skaters cleared out, leaving only a small group of friends gathered on the far side of the park, laughing and passing a board back and forth.

He liked nights like this. Quiet, but not empty.

They set their bags down near one of the ledges. Brennan skated a lazy circle to warm up, muscles loosening as the familiar rhythm settled in. He pushed off, cruised, popped a simple trick, landed clean. Nothing flashy—just enough to feel good. He glanced back at them, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth without him even thinking about it.

They skated, talked, sat, skated some more. Brennan dropped down onto the grass beside them, elbows resting on his knees as music played quietly from somewhere nearby. The sound blended into the night—the wheels, the distant laughter, the low hum of the city beyond the fences. He leaned back on his hands, watching the sky darken inch by inch, feeling that rare sense of stillness he didn’t often get during the season.

Eventually, he stood again, grabbing his board. He skated harder this time, trying a trick he’d missed earlier. The landing rattled his legs, but he laughed under his breath, shaking his head as he rolled back. “Alright,” he muttered to himself, breath fogging faintly in the cooling air, “one more.”

He lined himself up again, crouching lower and pushing off with more force. Time seemed to slow as he popped the trick, the board lifting cleanly—then it went wrong. His front foot clipped the edge, throwing everything off. Brennan barely caught himself as he landed, the impact jarring up through his legs. “Damn it,” he breathed.

The board skittered away across the concrete while he staggered, managing to stay upright by instinct alone. He winced, rolling his ankles and shaking out his legs, letting the sting fade. “Almost had it.”

He jogged over to retrieve his board, slowing when he realised the park had gone quieter than before. The small group on the other side had stopped what they were doing, eyes turned in his direction. Brennan glanced at them and exhaled through his nose. Great.

Turning away, he caught their gaze instead—and just like that, the tension eased. That familiar flutter hit his stomach, warm and grounding, the same feeling he always got around them. He rolled back over, tapping his board lightly against the ground as he came to a stop beside them. “You’re not supposed to stare,” he said with a crooked smile, nudging their shoulder with his own. “Makes it feel like you’re judging me.”