I didn’t notice him at first.The door bell of the cafeteria rang. But I wasn't at leisure enough to check every time someone came in. But then, a hip bumped my table. Coffee sloshed.I looked up, already annoyed.

"Still drinking that motor oil?" Seth asked, grinning like he hadn’t met me after years.

I blinked, looked up, and then leaned back in my chair like it was nothing. Like my pulse hadn’t just tripped over itself.

“Seth,” finally I said, voice flat, neutral. “Didn’t think you made it out of that mess.”

Seth shrugged, dropped into the seat across me without asking. "Takes more than a war zone and a half-functioning education system to get rid of me."

Well, that make me titter. "Pity."

We slipped back into old rhythms without trying. Seth tapped his fingers on the table, fidgety as ever.I flipped the soaked page in my textbook, pretending it didn’t bother me.

“Still can’t sit still for two minutes,” I said without looking up.

“And you’re still pretending you’re calm when you’re not,” Seth shot back.

I smirked. “Touché.”

Seth leaned over, eyeing the book. “Spines and nerve damage. Sounds fun.”

“Depends which end you’re on.”I closed it with a soft thud. “You just passing through?”

“Maybe.” Seth shrugged. “Thought I’d find out if you still had a personality.”

I gave a half-smile. “Jury’s out.”

“You still into playing god with a scalpel?” Seth asked.“I bet you're still 30 days old medical student. ”

I sipped what was left of my espresso. “Better than playing victim with excuses.”

Seth let out a low whistle. “You haven’t changed.”

“You have,” I replied, eyeing the neat collar, the pressed shirt. “You used to look like a half-slept mule.”

“I cleaned up for you,” Seth said with a wink.

“You missed it.” I replied.

“I heard what you’re doing,” Seth said, quieter now. “NGO's work. In the east quarter.”

I shrugged. “Someone has to.”

“And of course it’s you.”

“No one’s handing out medals, Seth.”

Seth leaned forward, arms crossed on the table. “I’m not handing out medals. I’m saying I’m proud of you, dumbass.”

Which got me. Not the words, but the way Seth said it—like he meant it, like I was still the scrawny kid with bandaged knuckles and a head full of big talk.

I cleared my throat. “Well, congrats. You’ve made me uncomfortable. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Seth said. Then, after a beat, “I’m around for a while.”

 “That a warning?” I said raising an eyebrow.

“A promise.”

Something loosened in my chest. Nothing much, just a little less tight.I nodded once.

“You still do that thing where you talk to stray dogs like they’re people?”

Seth grinned. “Only when people act worse than dogs.”

“So always.”

We sat there for a while, not doing much.I felt something click into place. Familiar. Solid. The world still sucked, people still bled, and my back still ached from both studies and outside works—but Seth was here.

And suddenly, that seemed like something worth keeping.

“You ever think about staying?” I finally asked, casually, like it didn’t matter.

Seth leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. “You asking?”

“I’m asking if the dogs miss you.”

Seth laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

 “Good.” I nodded.

And that was it. No music, no slow-motion hug. Just coffee gone cold, old friends, and a quiet understanding between two people who’d been through hell and somehow still knew how to laugh on the other side.

And a week has passed. No smell like an old love and my daily life continued. It was the most peaceful weekend I had... at least that was what I thought.

But nope.

Seth showed up at my dorm like it was the most casual thing in the world.

No text. No call. Just knocked once and let himself in, holding two plastic cups of something that claimed to be iced coffee.

“You still live like a raccoon,” he said, stepping over a pile of crumpled flashcards.

“I study medicine, not interior design.”

Seth handed me a cup. “Tastes like regret. Drink up.”

I took it. “So, you just drop by places now? Like a ghost with caffeine?”

“Something like that,” he said, eyes scanning the small room. “Cozy.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Yeah. It’s tragic.”

He flopped onto my bed like he owned the place. I stayed in the chair, watching him stretch like he hadn’t just disappeared for a year and some change. He hadn’t said if he was staying. Still hadn’t. I didn’t ask. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know.

“Man, I think your saliva got on my cheeks. ”

The so-called ice coffee I was drinking fell off halfway “Alright that's enough. How did you even guessed that was my bed? ”

There were three beds as I lived with some classmates.

He let out a grin “I picked the dirtiest one. ”

“Bullying”

“You remember that time you tried to build a treehouse with one hammer and zero talent?”

I smirked. “You fell out of it.”

“You pushed me.”

“You were annoying.”

“You had glitter glue in your hair for a week.”

“Still got the emotional trauma.”

He laughed, still like the kid I met seven years ago.My coffee was already warm. The cheap AC rattled in the wall. Outside, the city dragged on like it always did.

“You haven’t changed much,” he said after a while.

“Give it time.”

He sat up. “You still ride that busted bike?”

I glanced at the corner, where the silver Yamaha leaned against the wall like it was napping. “Upgraded the seat. The rest’s still suffering.”

“Take me somewhere,” Seth said. “You always found the weirdest spots.”

“You sure? You used to whine about the cold.”

“I whined to keep you talking.”

I rolled my eyes and stood. “Grab your guilt-coffee. Let’s go.”

...----------------...

We hit the edge of the city just before sunset. Seth held on loosely behind me, like he didn’t care if he fell off. I didn’t ask if he trusted me—I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

The roads curved out past the noise, into open stretches where everything felt less tight. I took him down through the old brick district, where rust-colored buildings leaned like they were tired of pretending to stand straight. Then out to the lake, where the water caught fire from the sky.

We didn’t talk much. That was the thing about Seth. Silence was allowed.

At the cliffside stop, I killed the engine. The wind carried the scent of pine and far-off smoke.

“Still hate heights?” I asked.

“Still hate your driving,” he said, hopping off the bike.

I leaned against the seat, watching the view like I didn’t care about the answer. He stood next to me, hands in his jacket pockets.

“You ever think we’d end up here?” he asked.

I gave a half-shrug. “I thought we’d be dead by now.”

“Fair.”

We watched the sun drop behind the hills. It got quiet again. The kind of quiet that held too much. I didn’t mind it, though. With him, it never felt empty.

Finally, he said, “Nice view.”

“Yeah,” I said. But I wasn’t looking at the view”

The mountains looked better at night.

Dim lights scattered below like lazy fireflies, the city lights weren't there like the good old times. Seth sat on a flat rock, elbows on his knees, quiet for once. I leaned against the bike, helmet dangling from one hand.

We didn’t talk for a while. That was the best thing about him—he never needed to fill the quiet.

“I used to think this place was the whole world,” Seth finally said, his voice low, like the mountain might echo if he raised it.

“You used to think chewing gum was currency,” I replied.

He laughed. “Yeah, well. I’ve grown.”

“Barely.”

He threw a small rock at me. Missed. “You ever wonder what’s next?”

“All the time,” I said. “Usually when I’m elbow-deep in a cadaver’s chest cavity.”

“Charming.”

I looked at him. The glow from the city lit the edge of his jaw, soft but sharp. He looked calm. Too calm.

“That’s what you brought me out here for? Existential dread under the stars?”

Seth shook his head. “Not exactly.”

I waited. I knew the shift when it came—his shoulder straightened, his knee stopped bouncing. Whatever it was, it mattered.

“I’m leaving,” he said.

I blinked. “Leaving where?”

He looked out at the lights. “The US. In two weeks.”

The dim lights were suddenly put out. Or maybe I just noticed it now.

“You got in?”

He nodded. “Full acceptance. I’m gonna study architecture there. My parents filed for citizenship not long after I was born. Got approved last year. I’ve been sitting on it.”

I nodded slowly, lips pressed together. “That’s… good.”

“It’s something.”

“Are you upset?” he said slowly, pronouncing every words in a particular manner as if he wanted me to say “Yes”

Before I noticed, I had already let out the grumpy, annoyed expression of mine.

“You always wanted out,” I said finally. “Always said you’d build something somewhere brighter.”

“I just didn’t think it’d feel this weird.”

I sat down next to him. The rock was cold.

I looked up to the night sky “Maybe we'll just have too different lives under the same sky. ”

“You'll become what's you've been working hard all along. And I... maybe I'll be saving lives in the refugee shelters. ”

“I look the most attractive in white coat if you hadn't see me yet. ”

He laughed, and then looked at me, serious this time. “I don’t want to disappear on you.”

“You won’t.”

“Even if I suck at texting?”

“I’ll text for both of us.”

He nodded. “We’ll meet again. After all this—whatever it is.”

“We better,” I said. “Otherwise I’m suing.”

“For what?”

“Emotional damage.”

He smiled, and it was real this time. The lights flickered down below. A dog barked somewhere far off. The moment settled, solid and strange.

I stood up and stretched. “Come on. I’ll drop you off before I change my mind and chain you to a rock.”

“Romantic,” he muttered, following me back to the bike.

We didn’t talk on the ride back. Didn’t need to. The engine roared, the wind hit sharp, and the city rolled past like it always did—𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵, 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩.

When we pulled up to his gate, he hopped off and looked at me like he wanted to say something more.

“Thanks for the ride,” he said instead.

“Always.”

He gave me a half-salute, turned, and walked inside. No drama. No big ending.

Just two weeks left, and a silence that stuck to my skin.

I revved the engine, like that could drown it out.

Didn't work.