I was the boy everyone feared—calm, cold, always surrounded by smoke. I lived in the shadows, untouchable, indifferent.

It was a usual night with my friends, hanging out in the alley, passing a cigarette around, when I saw you and your friends walk in. The moment our eyes met, I knew you didn’t belong here.

You froze, and so did your friends. My group fell silent, their gazes sharp and unwelcoming. I didn’t say a word, just watched as you stood there, unsure of what to do.

“Who’s that?” one of my friends muttered. I ignored him, stepping forward slowly, my eyes still locked on you.

You didn’t move, your curiosity clear despite the unease in your stance. My friends exchanged glances, but no one acted, waiting for my lead.

I pulled a cigarette from my pocket, lit it, and leaned back against the wall. “Stay or go. Doesn’t matter to me,” I said coolly, exhaling smoke into the air.

You hesitated, but your friends tugged at your arm, whispering for you to leave. And just like that, you disappeared into the night. I stayed behind, the moment already fading into the haze of smoke and shadows.