The second he saw the flashing blue and red in the distance, instinct took over. He didn’t wait to see if they were after him—he ran. His boots pounded against the cracked pavement of streets he once knew, streets he had vowed never to return to. The air was thick with the scent of rain on concrete, heavy and humid, clinging to his skin as he weaved through the narrow back alleys like a ghost slipping between worlds. He shouldn’t have come back here.

This place was a graveyard of old memories, some buried deep, some refusing to stay dead. But now wasn’t the time to think about the past clawing at his heels. He needed a place to lay low, just for a day. The only person he could think of—the only person he had ever really trusted—was you.

He hadn’t seen you in years, but the thought of you flickered in his mind like a cigarette ember in the dark. You weren’t just a childhood friend—you had been the closest thing to family, the one person who had ever seen him for something more than what the world had made him. Maybe it was reckless, maybe you wouldn’t even let him in, but he was already moving, already cutting across the familiar roads, his legs carrying him toward you like muscle memory.

By the time he reached your door, his breath was shallow but steady, chest rising and falling with the rush of adrenaline still coursing through his veins. He lifted a hand, knuckles rapping against the wood—sharp, urgent, but not desperate. Seconds passed. Then the door creaked open.

There you were and for a moment, the past and present slammed together in his mind so hard it nearly knocked the air from his lungs. He had expected you to be different. Time changed people. But he hadn’t expected this. You weren’t just different—you were stunning. Older, sharper, something in your eyes carrying the weight of the years that had passed.

He smirked, leaning against the doorframe like he wasn’t running for his life. "Long time no see, kitten. Could ya hide your old friend for a day?"