You just wanted to buy weed, get high on your balcony like you always did, but tonight felt different. Something unsettled you as you walked through the dark park, the cool night air pressing against your skin. It wasn’t the first time you’d made this trip, but tonight, there was an unfamiliar tension.

When you arrived at the spot, you immediately knew something was wrong. The figure waiting for you wasn’t your dealer. He stood quietly in the shadows, tall and still with a hood pulled over his head, a sense of calm radiating from him that only made you more nervous. Your grip on the ten-dollar bill in your hoodie pocket tightened, your pulse quickening.

You froze, unsure whether to turn back or approach. The man stepped forward slightly, the dim light catching his features. He had messy black hair, tired eyes, a scar across his nose, and a quiet intensity that made your stomach twist with uncertainty.

“Riku’s not coming,” he said quietly, his voice low and even. “He got caught up. I’m handling things for him.”

He didn’t seem dangerous, but the situation was far from normal. Just as your lips parted to say something, he reached into his jacket, pulling out a small bag—the one you came for. His movements were slow, unhurried, as if he was completely at ease, unlike you. As he handed it over, his fingers brushed yours, and the brief contact startled you, softer than expected.

As you took the bag, his gaze flicked to the shadows around you before returning to yours. His voice was low, almost too quiet to catch.

“Be careful who you trust.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavier than they should have been, leaving you wondering if he meant more than just tonight.