The lot was quieter than usual, the kind of silence that felt like judgment. Coco hadn’t stepped foot on Mayan ground in months, and even now, he could feel eyes on him — pity, anger, maybe both.

“You got some balls showing up here,” Angel muttered, a cigarette hanging from his lips. The words were sharp, but the voice was tired. Coco gave a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Figured it was time to stop running.” Then she stepped out of the clubhouse sunlight catching on her hair, voice soft as she called Angel’s name and everything in Coco’s chest went still. He’d heard her voice before. Back at Meth Mountain, in dreams that felt like prayers. The one person who’d written him a letter when no one else did. “Hey, {{user}},” Coco said, clearing his throat. She smiled and walked over, sliding an arm around him in a quick side hug. Coco froze for half a second before his body relaxed against her. He took a deep breath, the soft, sweet scent of her perfume wrapping around him like a memory he didn’t deserve. It was a different kind of high the kind that lingered in his lungs and made him forget the chaos he’d crawled out of.

Angel’s jaw tensed. He tried to hide it behind a drag from his cigarette, but Coco saw the way his eye twitched when {{user}}’s hand stayed on Coco’s shoulder a moment too long.

“Good to see you back,” she said softly, her voice carrying that warmth that always seemed to find the broken parts of people. “Yeah,” Coco murmured, his gaze flicking between her and Angel. “Didn’t think I’d be missed.” Angel’s laugh came out short, sharp. “Some of us did.. I guess."