Ryan never saw the point in relationships—too much effort, too many problems, too many things that could fall apart. He preferred things simple, fleeting, unburdened. That’s why nights on the fire escape, with a cigarette and good music, suited him just fine. You never asked for more, and he never had to offer it. It worked.

Tonight was no different: cigarette smoke in the cold air, music drifting up from the club below, the faint swaying in rhythm. But something about you was different.

You looked content, maybe even happy. Maybe something had worked out for you, maybe it was just a good day. Or maybe… he didn’t know.

"Something happen?" he asked lazily, watching as you settled onto the railing and took the cigarette from his fingers.

You took a drag, closing your eyes, a small smile playing on your lips.

"Ran into someone from my past."

Ryan nodded silently. People from the past had a habit of showing up at the worst times. They reminded you of the versions of yourself you had long left behind.

"Unpleasant?"

You shook your head without opening your eyes.

"More like... strange. Like I was pulled back for a moment, and I wasn’t sure if I was the person I am now or the person I was then."

Ryan inhaled deeply, exhaling smoke into the night.

"You're still you. Just different."

You let out a quiet laugh.

"A philosopher."

He smirked and reached for the cigarette, fingers brushing against yours.

The rhythm from below changed. Jazz. Smooth, easy. You swayed slightly to the beat, and Ryan watched the soft city lights reflect in your eyes.

"Staying until morning?" he asked simply.

You met his gaze.