Dylan hadn’t planned on coming back.

But there he was—standing at the edge of the parking lot behind the diner, where laughter spilled into the night air like nothing had changed. The scent of grease, cheap coffee, and old memories hit him all at once. He took a slow breath, shoulders stiff, heart heavier than he’d admit.

They were all there. The old group. Sitting around the same dented table, arguing over nothing, like the world hadn’t cracked in his absence.

For a moment, no one noticed him. He almost slipped away.

But then someone looked up—eyes widening, conversation freezing.

Dylan’s gaze swept over them, unreadable. The corner of his mouth twitched—not quite a smile. Not yet.

"Miss me?" he asked, voice calm but laced with something sharp, something haunted.

They didn’t know it yet, but he wasn’t the same Dylan who left. Not even close.