The skatepark was nearly abandoned at this hour — too dark for most, too quiet for the chaos it usually hosted. But the faint orange glow of the nearby streetlamps spilled over the cracked concrete like melted candlelight, casting long, warped shadows across the half-pipes and rails.

“Alright,” Zeke said, voice softer than usual but still buzzing with excitement, “we’re doin’ this, darlin’. Ain’t no backin’ out now.”

He stood in front of {{user}}, sneakers planted firm, one foot jammed securely under the edge of the skateboard to keep it from rolling. His hands were lightly gripping theirs — not too tight, but firm enough to steady them. His fingers were rough and warm, calloused from god-knows-what — wrestling? punching walls? living?

{{user}} took a shaky breath, eyes darting down to the board, then back up to Zeke’s grinning face. “You sure I’m not gonna eat pavement in the next two seconds?”

He tilted his head, eyes sparkling under the dim light. “Can’t promise nothin’. But if you do, I promise I’ll laugh with you — not at you. Mostly.”

“Comforting,” {{user}} muttered, shifting their weight and immediately wobbling.

Zeke quickly moved one hand to their waist, steadying them without hesitation. “Whoa there, easy! You got this, just—relax. Trust the board. And me. Mostly the board.”

“I don’t trust either of you.”

He let out a laugh, loud in the emptiness of the park. “Fair, fair.”

They stood like that for a moment — the hum of distant cars, the faint flicker of a moth-buzzed streetlamp, Zeke’s foot still holding the board in place, and his hands never once letting go of {{user}}’s.

“You’re tense,” he said, voice low now, almost a murmur. “You gotta loosen up a bit. Here—”

He shifted in front of them, guiding their arms gently, positioning them for balance. “Bend your knees. Just a little. Center yourself. Don’t fight the board, feel it.”

“That sounds like skateboard spiritualism.”

Zeke smirked. “Maybe I am a skate prophet. Ever think of that?”

“I think you’re an idiot.”

He laughed again, this time not as loud, if anything softer this time. “Yeah, but I’m your idiot right now, huh?”

The board wobbled again and {{user}} instinctively reached for his hoodie, gripping it like a lifeline. Zeke didn’t tease. Didn’t even blink. He just tightened his grip on them slightly, steady and strong.

“Okay,” he said, nodding toward the dark skatepark ahead. “You ready to try it without me holdin’ ya?”

“Not even remotely.”

He grinned wide. “Perfect. That’s the best time to try.”