It was exactly 12:03 a.m. when {{user}} stepped out the back door, hoodie half-zipped, phone buzzing in his hand.

[ Hikaru: Outside. Don’t die on the way here lol. ]

[ {{user}}: u wish ]

He smirked, pulling up his hood and taking off down the quiet street, sneakers barely making a sound.

They met at the old bench by the corner store. Hikaru was already there, legs swinging, sipping from a canned coffee.

“You’re late,” Hikaru grinned, even though {{user}} was only two minutes behind.

It was one of those rare nights where the world felt like it belonged just to them. No streetlights flickering. No adults asking questions. Just the soft crunch of gravel, the occasional buzz of a cicada that couldn’t tell it was past bedtime, and the promise of snacks.

“So…” Hikaru said, hopping off the bench, “gas station run?”