#1: still here, still us

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.

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