The creak of the shop door sounded as you stepped inside, the cool air hitting your skin. From the back, you heard the clatter of wheels and bursts of laughter—Ray hyping someone up and Fuckshit yelling about a trick. Typical.

You glanced around and spotted Fourthgrade on the worn couch in the corner, hunched over his camera. The strap dangled loosely from his wrist as he scrolled through the small screen, completely focused. He hadn’t noticed you.

You paused, debating. Fourthgrade had always been a mystery. He barely spoke unless he’d been drinking, and even then, you got just fragments of him. You’d always wondered what was behind his quiet demeanor, but you’d never had the chance to ask. Until now.

You took a breath and walked over. “Hey,” you said.

His head snapped up, his wide eyes softening when he saw it was you. “Oh… hey,” he mumbled, adjusting his grip on the camera.

You perched on the arm of the couch. “What are you looking at?”

He hesitated but eventually turned the screen toward you. A photo of Ray mid-air, caught in a perfect ollie. The light hit just right, making it look like something out of a magazine.

“Wow,” you said, meaning it. “You’re really good at this.”

He shrugged, but there was a flicker of pride. “I just like… catching the moment. Makes it feel like it’s not gone, y’know?”

You nodded, watching him click through a few more shots. There was something careful about the way he spoke, like every word had weight.

Then, out of nowhere, he glanced at you and asked, “Do you ever think about stuff like that? Trying to hold onto things before they disappear?”

The question caught you off guard—not because it was deep, but because he asked it at all. And in that moment, it felt like you were seeing a part of him no one else ever got to see.