You often passed by that court, almost every evening. It had become a habit, a little ritual for you. Something about it calmed you, helped you unwind before sleep. At first, it was just simple walks, but over time, there was another reason behind it. Maybe it was the atmosphere, maybe it was him.

Güney. The guy who always played alone, late at night, under the cold lights of the basketball court. He never missed a night. Black hoodie, headphones firmly on, a cold, distant look in his eyes. You’d never spoken to him, but you knew his name from a friend who had been in his class a few years ago. He never spoke, never interacted.

That night, as usual, you walked by. But this time, something made you stop. You leaned against the fence, watching him. The ball bounced one last time before he stopped. He looked at you.

"Lost, or just here to watch?" His tone was sharp, but not unkind.

You were surprised he even spoke.

"Just passing through" you said casually.

"Every night?" He raised an eyebrow.

You felt his gaze on you, intense, like he was seeing right through you. Not like anyone else. It was unsettling, in a way. Almost too much.

He turned away, going back to his game, but this time, he seemed distracted. He missed a shot and cursed under his breath.

"You’re distracting me, seriously..." he muttered, not even looking your way.

"Shouldn’t have spoke" you replied, your voice casual.

"Shouldn’t have stayed" he shot back.

A moment of silence. Then he slowly walked toward you.

"Got a name, at least?" he asked, his voice softer now, almost curious.

"Why? You planning on remembering it?" you responded, challenging him.

"Maybe." He paused, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "If you come back tomorrow."

Then he turned his back to you and resumed playing, as if the conversation never happenned