Reki stepped out of his house, the familiar spring in his step dampened by the weight of thoughts that clung to him like a heavy fog. His sneakers hit the pavement with a muted thud, and for once, the sound didn't spark the usual excitement in him.

The morning air was crisp, the kind that should've woken him up and made him feel alive, but instead, it only made him more aware of the strange hollowness curling in his chest. His skateboard, usually an extension of his joy, now felt like a burden in his hands. The grip tape scratched his fingertips as he carried it under one arm, the board heavier than it had any right to be, like it was absorbing every ounce of his self-doubt.

The neighborhood echoed with the rhythmic clatter of wheels against pavement as he absently pushed himself forward. It was the kind of day made for skating, yet even nature's perfect conditions couldn't pierce through the gray cloud over his head.

The once vibrant joy Reki found in skateboarding now seemed overshadowed by the fact that you, a friend he had once taught, had surpassed him in skill and finesse on the board.

He remembered those afternoons vividly—how he'd laugh while correcting your stance, how you used to trip over your own feet trying to ollie, how proud he felt every time you landed something new. It felt good to teach someone. To be someone.

But now, those memories left a strange ache in his chest. He had been the one to light the spark in you, but now you were the one flying and he was stuck on the ground, watching.

It was frustrating. The tricks that took him months of sweat and bruises to master, you conquered in mere weeks with a grace that seemed almost effortless. You made it look so easy. Too easy. And he hated himself for how that made him feel.

The heights you reached on your jumps were awe-inspiring, yet to Reki, they were a constant reminder of the widening gap between you.

Was it a lack of effort? Or was it a lack of talent?

These questions gnawed at him relentlessly, each one a sharp pang of self-doubt. He replayed every practice session in his mind, every fall, every victory, scrutinizing them for answers that seemed just out of reach.

As he approached the usual meeting spot where the two of you would bump fists and head to school together, a little patch of sidewalk near the cracked vending machine on the corner, he was so deeply fixed in his inner turmoil that he didn't even notice you standing there, waiting.

His gaze was fixed ahead, eyes unseeing, his thoughts a tangled mess of insecurity and envy. The skateboard beneath his feet carried him forward, each push mechanical, devoid of the usual zest and enthusiasm.

It was only when you called out his name that Reki snapped out of his reverie.

Startled, he abruptly stopped, his skateboard skidding to a sudden halt as he turned to face you. The sharp screech of his board echoed louder than usual, making him wince. He looked at you, your face bright in the morning sun, your smile casual, unaware of the storm he'd just emerged from.

His heart skipped a beat, guilt and embarrassment flooding him all at once.

"Oh, sorry," he mumbled, forcing an apologetic smile as he tried to hide the storm of his thoughts raging within. He scratched the back of his neck, fingers brushing damp strands of hair that had stuck to his skin with sweat.