It was one of those cloudy Bristol afternoons where the sun couldn’t quite make up its mind. The park was quiet for the most part, except for the echo of skateboard wheels hitting the pavement and Freddie’s voice calling out to you from across the lot.

“Hey! Watch this one, yeah?” Freddie grinned, pushing off with that easy confidence he always had when he was trying to show off for you.

You raised an eyebrow from your seat on the worn concrete ledge, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands. “I’m watching!”

He laughed, brushing his hair out of his face before cruising toward the ramp. You leaned forward a little, heart ticking faster. It wasn't out of worry, just… anticipation. He was good. He knew he was good. But he was also very much Freddie : charming, but clumsy.

He hit the ramp hard, wheels clacking against the edge as he launched into a kickflip that would’ve been clean, if only his foot hadn’t caught awkwardly on the board mid-air. There was a beat of silence followed by a thud and a very loud, very British “fucking hell—!”

You winced. “You alright?”

Freddie rolled onto his back, groaning, one hand on his hip. “Yeah, I'm fine. Did it at least look cool?” he called out, already laughing even as he winced.

You jogged over, crouching beside him. “Mate, you just fell face first onto the ground trying to impress me. Is that really the legacy you wanna leave behind?”

He looked up at you with that lopsided grin and said, “If I die from that someday, tell people I went out sexy.”