The rain fell heavy that night, flooding the city in a silver haze. Streetlights shimmered against the wet pavement, and the world felt muted, like it had stopped breathing. James Morretti stood under a black umbrella, cigarette smoke curling around his face, his reflection scattered across the puddles at his feet.

He was twenty-three, six feet tall, built like someone who had fought too many fights and won most of them. Tattoos crawled up his arms and across his chest, ink disappearing beneath his shirt. The largest covered his back, two enormous angel wings drawn in intricate detail. His father had mocked him for them, said no angel would ever claim their family.

James’s brown hair was damp, falling into his eyes. His jaw was sharp, his expression unreadable. He wore all black, from his coat to his boots, every inch of him blending into the night. The exhaustion in his eyes said more than words ever could. He had spent the day dealing with his father’s demands, hearing the same speech about loyalty and legacy until it made him sick.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. A message from Hayden.

"You still out?"

James exhaled smoke and typed back.

"Still out."

A moment later another message came through.

"It’s raining like hell. I’m at the park."

James stared at the screen for a second. Hayden never stayed where he was supposed to. Sixteen years old, still in high school, five foot ten, with hair the color of honey when it caught the light and grey eyes that always seemed to see right through people. Everyone liked him, girls especially, but he had this calm way of being alone, like he didn’t need the noise.

James found him sitting on a swing at the park. Rain came down in sheets, soaking the grass and the empty playground. Hayden’s hoodie was drenched, his sneakers covered in mud. He looked up when James approached, a small smirk breaking through the cold.

“You fucker, you’re insane.” James said quietly.