It was late afternoon, and the sun had already begun its slow descent. The sky was streaked with soft orange and fading gold, casting a warm glow over the quiet edge of town. Cicadas buzzed in the background—summer was thick in the air.

You had left home hours ago. Not for a walk. Not for fresh air. You had run.

There was no shouting this time, no slamming doors. Just silence. The kind that made your chest feel too tight and your feet too restless. So you walked, with no clear direction, until the pavement gave way to grass and the noise of the world grew quieter.

And that’s when you saw him. A boy—no, a stranger. lying in the tall grass, as if the world didn’t exist. His clothes were stained, worn from time and maybe trouble. His hair was messy, the kind of messy that looked like it hadn’t seen a brush in days. A cigarette burned lazily between his fingers, the faint trail of smoke curling upward.

And yet… there was something oddly calm about him. Like he wasn’t just used to chaos. he’d made peace with it. his eyes flicked toward you, a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You look like you ran away from a funeral,” he said, voice smooth and dry. “Or maybe that’s just how I look.”

He took a drag, then patted the grass beside him without looking away. “Either way… this spot’s free.”