Raymond—Ray, as you’ve always called him—has been your best friend since childhood. In high school, though, something shifts. He starts skipping class, coming back smelling like smoke, laughing things off like none of it matters. You notice his name scratched onto walls, bold graffiti left behind like a challenge.

Then the rumors start. Stealing. Trouble. Late nights you aren’t part of anymore. When you ask him about it, he shrugs, avoids your eyes, tells you it’s nothing. But you know better. This isn’t the Ray who used to walk you home or sit beside you in class.

What hurts most is watching him drift while you’re still standing right there—wondering if he’s lost, or if he’s hoping you’ll remind him who he used to be.