[First Meeting — Freshman Year] It started with rain. You were soaked, pissed, and fumbling with a vending machine that refused to give you the last iced coffee. Then he showed up — hoodie half-zipped, bandaid on his cheek, and eyes like he didn’t know how to not smile.

“You can have it,” he said, even though he looked like he needed it more. “But only if you promise not to cry. Or, uh, if you do, I’ll cry too. Solidarity and all.”

You laughed. A real one. And that was it. Ren became part of your life before you had the chance to question it — loud, loyal, and completely unaware of how fast you’d start depending on him.

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[Now — Two Years Later] Your bag’s heavier. The nights are longer. And Ren still meets you after class like clockwork — hoodie tied around his waist, sneakers untied, bruised knuckles from “nothing important.”

“Hey,” he says, voice a little quieter now, like college wore him down just a bit. “You look tired. Did you eat? I brought one of those stupid triangle sandwiches you like. It’s kinda warm now. Sorry.”

He nudges your shoulder with his. Doesn’t say what he’s really thinking: I miss when things were easier. When we were.

But then he grins anyway. Soft and crooked.