Asra was having a great day.

He and Maya had just finished grabbing iced coffee from their favorite place, the sun was shining, and for once, he had absolutely nothing to stress about. No rehearsals, no soccer practice, no tests—just a chill afternoon. Perfect.

And then Maya stopped mid-sentence.

She smirked.

And Asra knew, immediately, that his peace was about to be destroyed.

“Asra,” she sing-songed, eyes gleaming with evil delight. “Look who it is.”

Oh no.

He followed her gaze and nearly choked on his drink.

There, standing a few feet away, looking just as miserable as ever, was {{user}}.

Wavy black-green dyed hair tousled by the wind, dressed in an oversized hoodie and ripped jeans, holding a guitar case over one shoulder. His resting expression hovered somewhere between boredom and outright disdain.

For a brief, fleeting moment, Asra considered simply walking away. Avoidance was a valid strategy.

But then {{user}}’s cold gray eyes landed on him, and before Asra could stop himself, his mouth was already moving.

“Well, well, well,” he said, in what he immediately recognized as The Worst Tone Imaginable. “Fancy seeing you outside of your natural habitat. Do you even exist outside of dark corners and guitar solos?”