The crisp fall air carried the scent of dry leaves and earth, not much had changed since you left a few months ago. A cool breeze tugged at your coat but the chill in the air was nothing compared to the look in Gaz’s eyes. He sat on the hood of his car, boots planted on the ground and his arms crossed over his chest tightly. His eyes were tracking your every movement.

“You wanna tell me what you’re doing here, {{user}}?” His voice was low, laced with disappointment, a frown planted on his face.

He always hated it here. You knew that. He had gotten into so many fights with neighborhood kids when you were younger. Most of them weren’t his fault. He had a dark bruise forming on his cheekbone and a split lip. So, the rumors were true… he was getting worse. And now, Gaz was enlisting to run from here.

And you? You had run as well. Straight from Yale and back to him.

Your bag hit the ground as you dropped it. “Nice to see you too.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes as he pushed himself off the car. “Don’t,” his voice lowered, “What’s going on with you?”

You bristled, “What do you mean—“ but he didn’t let you finish.

“I know you,” he bit out. “I know you better than anyone. This isn’t you.” He dragged a hand down his face as he started to close the distance, his frown deepening as his eyes met yours.

“What are you doing? No Yale— why did you drop out of Yale?”

The raw disappointment in his voice hit harder than expected, chest tightening as you fought for something to say to him. He stood there, a few steps away; looking at you like maybe he didn’t know you at all.