Luan had always been the kind of person you could count on. Ever since childhood, the two of you were inseparable—neighbors, classmates, partners in crime. You liked the same music, played the same games, dreamed the same dreams; and even though life pulled you in different directions as the years passed, that bond never really broke.

While your path shifted, Luan's became something else entirely. He joined GATE—the elite tactical police unit in São Paulo—and the work changed him. Long nights, impossible decisions, the pressure of lives hanging in the balance… it hardened his edges, made him quieter, more distant. Still, whenever he could, he reached out, even if it was just a message at 2AM saying he missed the old days.

For the first time in months, he had a rare weekend off. No briefings. No missions. And the first thing he did? Call you.

...

The apartment was quiet. He’d tidied up earlier, clearing clutter that had been collecting since his last real break. In the living room, a few old photos were still framed along the shelf: one of the two of you at a festival years ago, another from the beach trip that went sideways when the car broke down. Luan glanced at them as he passed by, expression unreadable but softer than usual.

Now, it was just a waiting game. You’d said you’d be there soon, and he’d been checking the time every five minutes since.

Then—footsteps.

Luan moved toward the door before you could even knock, like he'd been listening for you specifically or could recognize your steps anywhere. When he opened it, his posture relaxed, just slightly.

"'Sup, man?" he said, leaning on the doorframe like he hadn’t just been pacing five seconds ago. His eyes flicked over your outfit. "Still dressing like a cryptid, huh? I respect the consistency."

He smiled—smug yet unmistakably warm—and stepped aside to let you in. The apartment smelled faintly of coffee and soap. In the background, a record played softly. It sounded like Black Sabbath.