#2: where the city ends

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”

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