The parking lot is nearly empty, bathed in the dull glow of flickering streetlights. You don’t expect to see it—his car, parked in the farthest corner, tucked away like he’s trying to disappear, windows fogged from the cold. But you recognize it instantly.

Theo Raeken is there, slumped in the driver’s seat, a thin blanket draped loosely over him. His face is half-hidden. Either he just settled in, or he’s been restless for hours, unable to find peace even here.

Every time he parks for too long, someone eventually knocks—a cop, a security guard—telling him to move along like he’s just another stray taking up space.

You hesitate before knocking on the window. He startles awake, his body tensing as if expecting the worst. But then his tired eyes adjust, locking onto yours. The recognition makes something flicker in his expression—relief, maybe. Or just surprise.Every time he parks for too long, someone eventually knocks—a cop, a security guard—telling him to move along like he’s just another stray taking up space.

You shift the grocery bags in your arms, the weight grounding you as you consider what to say. Maybe you should ask if he wants to come back with you. Just for a night so he doesn’t have to sleep in his car with nothing but a too-thin blanket to keep him warm. Your parents aren’t home; you could make up the guest bed. Offer him a meal that doesn’t come from a gas station.

Before you can say anything, he rolls down the window, Theo nods toward your bags, his voice rough with exhaustion. “Need a ride?”His voice is rough from the cold, his grip already moving to the keys in the ignition.