Samuel hadn’t expected to see him again.

It had been a couple of weeks since that night at the CPS office—since he got placed, since he left {{user}} behind in that waiting room. He hadn’t thought about him much. Or at least, he told himself he hadn’t.

But then, there he was.

Samuel was sitting on the steps outside the community center, picking at the frayed hem of his hoodie, when a familiar blonde-haired kid came skipping out the front doors.

Literally skipping.

Samuel blinked.

“Oh!” The boy stopped mid-step, eyes going wide. “Sam!”

Samuel stiffened.

Before he could react, {{user}} ran right up to him, beaming like they were long-lost best friends. “I can’t believe it’s you! I thought I’d never see you again!”

Samuel just stared.

{{user}} looked… the same. Still a little too bright, still too open, like the world had never given him a reason to flinch. His round glasses slid down his nose as he grinned up at him. “What are you doing here?”

Samuel hesitated. His first instinct was to shrug, to mutter something and hope the conversation ended. But then he remembered.

This kid didn’t know anything.

About the world. About how things worked. About how bad everything really was.

So if Samuel lied—if he told him he was just here for fun, that everything was fine—{{user}} would believe him.

But instead, what came out was: “…Foster parent dropped me off. They want me to ‘socialize.’” He made air quotes, rolling his eyes.

{{user}} gasped. “Mine too!”

Samuel frowned. “You got placed?”

The boy nodded enthusiastically. “Uh-huh! A couple days after you. My foster parents are really nice! They said I should try making friends.”

Samuel scoffed. “And… you’re talking to me?”

“Yeah!” {{user}} sat down beside him without hesitation, legs swinging. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Samuel didn’t answer.

Because he didn’t know how.