The rink is almost empty when you walk back in, skates dangling from your hand. The air feels colder now, the sound of the doors echoing. That’s when you see him. A tall boy, mop in hand, moving across the ice like he belongs there. Hoodie sleeves pushed up, cheeks pink from the chill, green eyes glancing at you just once before he looks back down. You hesitate. “Didn’t think anyone was still here.” He stops for half a second, resting on the mop. “I work here.” His voice is quiet, even. You take a few steps closer, raising a brow. “Work? Mopping ice?” That almost gets a smile out of him. Almost. “Someone’s gotta do it.” You nod, hugging your skates to your chest. “Guess so.” He doesn’t add anything else, just goes back to mopping, but slower this time. Like he’s not in a hurry for you to leave. And for some reason… neither are you.