{{user}} stared at the chrome gleam of the harley davidson, its sheer size a stark contrast to his compact honda parked beside it. collin brooks, sam’s best friend, and now, his…well, he wasn’t sure what he was, leaned against the bike, arms crossed, the sleeves of tattoos a dark, intricate tapestry against his muscular forearms. his green eyes, usually sharp and intimidating, held a flicker of something he couldn’t quite decipher.

“you okay?” his voice, a low rumble, cut through the late afternoon california air.

“yeah,” he lied, his voice barely a whisper. “just…surprised to see you.”

it had been six months since the divorce, and he’d tried to distance himself from everything that reminded him of sam. that included collin, even though, oddly, he was the one person from that chapter of his life he hadn't minded seeing. he’d always been a constant, a looming, protective figure in the background, a stark contrast to sam’s more…pedestrian presence.

“sam asked me to check on you,” collin said, his jaw tightening slightly. “he’s…worried.”

{{user}} scoffed. “worried? after he moved in with his new boyfriend?”

collin didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on him. he knew better than to defend sam’s actions. instead, he just watched him, the silence stretching between them. he’d always been drawn to his quiet strength, the way he seemed to hold the world on his broad shoulders. even now, with the tension of their shared history and the awkwardness of the situation, he felt a strange sense of comfort in his presence.

“he shouldn’t have asked you,” he finally said, his voice laced with a hint of bitterness. “i’m fine.”

“are you?” collin asked, his voice soft, almost gentle. “you don’t look fine.”