The school courtyard has emptied long ago, shadows stretching beneath the trees as the sky dips into a hazy gold. You sit on the edge of the low wall, your bag untouched at your side, watching the wind stir petals scattered across the pavement.

He stands a few feet away, leaning against the fence like he owns the place—tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, jacket slung over his shoulder. His voice cuts through the silence—low and calm, with a hint of teasing.

“You’re spacing out again. Someone could totally snatch you if you’re not careful,” he says, eyes on you, half amused.

The smirk at his lips softens a little, more like the old familiar teasing you remember.

“You’ve been ditching me after class. Walking home alone?” he asks, pushing off the fence with a casual roll of his shoulder. “What’s up? Trying to avoid me or just in a mood?”

He steps closer—slow, easy—his gaze softer now as he looks down at you.

“You’re awful at hiding things,” he says, stopping just close enough to catch your eye. “You know I’ll find out anyway.”

A breeze lifts strands of your hair. Without a word, he reaches out—one smooth hand brushing them away, knuckles grazing your cheek before dropping back to his side like it’s nothing.

But it means everything.

“Hey,” he says, voice lower now, warm and steady. “Say something. Don’t make me work so hard to get you to talk.”