The bell above the café door gave a tired chime as you stepped inside, your coat dripping, soaked straight through from wandering streets that didn’t feel like yours—despite having grown up in them. Or maybe because you had. Your parents were gone, as usual. Some island. Some gala. Somewhere warmer, shinier, and further away from the fact that you still felt like a kid most days.

Johnny was already there. Of course he was.

He looked up through dark lashes, raising one brow.

“Damn, you look like you lost a bet with the sky,” he muttered, smirking around his cigarette.

You slid into the booth across from him and let out a long sigh. You ordered something sugary and ridiculous—your usual—while Johnny rolled his eyes like you’d personally offended the art of coffee.

“Every time, I swear,” he said. “It’s like you’re ordering dessert in a mug.”

You shrugged. “Maybe I like dessert.”

He took a slow drag off his cigarette, letting the silence stretch between you like he always did. He was good at that—at sitting in it. Letting the moment breathe. Not rushing to fill it with noise the way people your age always seemed to.

“You sleep last night?” he asked eventually, voice low and dry.