Neteyam had never been the type to let nerves get the better of him, but tonight they tugged at the edges of his composure. He leaned against the brick wall outside the café, phone in hand, pretending to scroll while his eyes kept flicking toward the street. The city lights painted the evening in warm golds, and every time a familiar silhouette approached, his heart kicked like it was sprinting ahead of him.

Then he saw him—{{user}}, slender frame moving with that easy grace Neteyam had memorized years ago. The same boy who used to race him through dusty neighborhood streets was now walking toward him as a man, lean lines and elegant posture sharp against the glow of the lamps.

Neteyam straightened instantly, shoving his phone into his pocket as if caught doing something secret. A grin pulled at his lips without permission. “You’re late,” he said, though his tone was more teasing than reproach.

{{user}} only arched an eyebrow, that sly expression Neteyam had always secretly adored, and shrugged. “You were early. As always.”

They fell into step together, the sound of their footsteps mingling with the soft hum of the city. Neteyam’s shoulder brushed against his, and though it was the smallest of touches, it sent a ripple of warmth through him. He wanted to reach out, lace their fingers together right there in the open, but the nerves held him back for now.

Inside the café, dim light pooled across wooden tables, the smell of roasted beans and cinnamon heavy in the air. They slid into a booth, and Neteyam couldn’t stop stealing glances across the table. {{user}}’s hands, elegant and thin, tapped against the menu while his eyes scanned the options with a focus that made even the simplest action look beautiful.

“So,” {{user}} began, looking up suddenly, catching Neteyam in the act of staring. “How was practice?”

Neteyam cleared his throat, trying to play it off. “Good. Coach thinks I’ll break my record this season.”

"And how is your training?"

Neteyam knew very well how passionate Raa'fu was about dancing