Sunlight spilled across the studio windows in long amber streaks.
Raze stood in front of his canvas, brush hovering midair.
Music hummed softly through one earbud.
His strokes were loose today.
Less precise, more instinct.
Turquoise blending into warm ochre.
Pattern in the static.
"You're zoning again."
Noah leaned against the edge of the easel.
Raze didn't look away from the painting.
"I'm working."
"You're dissociating artistically."
"That's just branding."
Noah snorted.
"You coming tonight?"
Raze paused.
"Tonight?"
"Mini Friday. Bar down the street. You promised last week."
Raze leaned back slightly.
He'd told himself he'd cut down.
He'd said that three weeks ago.
"I'll come."
Noah grinned. "That's my destructive genius."
Raze rolled his eyes.
But he was already calculating how much was "acceptable."
The bar was warm.
Dim lights, amber tones, soft chatter.
James stood behind the counter.
Early forties, steady eyes, tired but composed.
He nodded when Raze walked in.
"Evening."
"Evening."
Raze respected him.
Two kids at home.
Widowed three years.
Worked double shifts without complaint.
Strength without spectacle.
"Usual?" James asked.
Raze hesitated.
"…Yeah."
First drink burned a little.
Second didn't.
Noah and the others filled the table with noise.
Art debates, professors, deadlines.
Future plans that sounded bigger after alcohol.
Raze laughed, talked, listened.
But between conversations—
He checked his phone.
Once.
Twice.
Nothing from Raxian.
He told himself that was good.
Means he's stable.
Means he's not spiraling.
Another drink appeared.
He didn't remember ordering it.
Clock ticked.
Friends left one by one.
"Early class."
"Boyfriend waiting."
"Budget."
Eventually it was just him and Noah.
Then just him.
Music lowered.
Chairs flipped upside down on tables in the far corner.
Raze's head dipped slightly.
Just for a second.
Then darkness.
—
A hand on his shoulder.
"Hey."
James.
Gentle but firm.
"We're closing."
Raze blinked slowly.
"Ah."
He rubbed his face.
"Sorry."
James studied him.
"You want me to call an Uber?"
Raze stood carefully.
World slightly tilted.
"I'm fine."
James didn't look convinced.
"It's late."
"I can walk."
A beat.
"You sure?"
Raze forced a small smile.
"Yeah. I'm good."
James nodded slowly.
"Text someone when you get home."
Raze hesitated.
Then nodded.
"Yeah."
He stepped out into the cool night air.
Streetlights blurred slightly at the edges.
City quieter now.
He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.
Walked.
Alone.
-
The night air had been colder than he expected.
Raze walked.
At least, he thought he was walking home.
Streetlights blurred slightly at the edges.
City quieter now.
He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.
The pavement shifted under his feet.
Left.
Right.
Left again.
He didn't check where he was going.
Didn't check his phone.
Didn't check anything.
His body felt heavy.
But not unstable.
Just… untethered.
At some point, he sat down.
A bench.
Wood cool beneath him.
He exhaled once.
Closed his eyes.
Just for a minute.
—
Morning light.
Soft.
Warmer than the night.
"Hey."
The voice wasn't loud.
Just present.
"Hey?"
Raze blinked slowly.
The world felt tilted.
Bright.
Wrong.
He pushed himself upright too quickly.
Head spun.
He looked around.
Storefront.
Glass windows.
A painted sign above the door.
Flowers arranged inside.
His heart jumped.
Wallet.
He checked instinctively.
Still there.
Phone.
Still there.
He exhaled slowly.
Relief first.
Then confusion.
A girl stood a few feet away.
Not too close, not invading.
Just… there.
Short blonde hair.
Cardigan layered over a mustard sweater.
Skirt brushing her knees.
A canvas bag hanging from her shoulder.
She looked at him like she'd been deciding whether to wake him for a while.
"You fell asleep here," she said quietly.
Her voice was calm, clear, no panic.
He blinked again, trying to piece together memory.
"…Here?"
She nodded slightly.
"In front of the shop."
He turned his head.
Read the sign properly now.
It was a flower shop.
The display window full of fresh arrangements.
Morning dew still clinging to the glass.
"My mom's," she added, almost as explanation.
He rubbed his face slowly.
"How long?"
She shrugged lightly.
"Since I got here."
That was vague..that was worse.
He glanced at her again.
It struck him then.
She wasn't scared.
She wasn't cautious in the way most people would be.
Talking to a stranger.
A man clearly older than her.
Disoriented, slept outside.
He frowned slightly.
"You shouldn't be this comfortable," he said.
She tilted her head.
"With what?"
"With waking random guys up."
A beat.
"I didn't touch you."
That was true, she hadn't.
She'd stayed just out of reach.
He studied her properly now.
She didn't look naive.
She looked… observant.
"You don't look dangerous," she added, simply.
He almost laughed at that.
"You don't know that."
She met his gaze evenly.
"I do."
That confidence wasn't reckless.
It was quiet.
He looked down at his hands.
They were steady.
Head clearer now.
Embarrassment crept in.
"I didn't mean to—"
"It's fine," she said.
"You were asleep."
Like that explained everything.
She adjusted the strap of her bag slightly.
"It's cold."
He noticed now.
Morning air biting sharper than expected.
"You want coffee?" she asked.
He blinked.
"Coffee?"
She nodded toward the shop.
"We open in ten minutes."
There was no pressure in it.
No insistence, just offering.
He hesitated.
He should probably go home.
Shower.
Re-evaluate his life choices.
Instead, he looked at the shop window.
At the flowers.
At the way the morning light filtered through petals.
"…Yeah," he said finally.
"I'll take coffee."
She nodded once.
Simple.
Then turned toward the door.
He stood slowly.
Followed.
Still not entirely sure how his feet had brought him here.
But for the first time since leaving the bar—
He didn't feel alone.
-
The bell above the shop door chimed softly as Fayne stepped inside.
"Give me a minute," she said.
Raze nodded.
She disappeared through a narrow doorway behind the counter — staff room, probably.
He stood alone in the quiet.
The shop smelled like soil and fresh stems.
Not perfume, not artificial, real.
Buckets of tulips lined one wall.
Lavender bundles tied with twine.
Pressed flower cards near the register.
The place felt… grounded.
He ran a hand through his hair slowly.
So this is where I ended up.
He glanced down at himself.
Jacket wrinkled.
Eyes probably tired.
He almost laughed under his breath.
Of course.
A flower shop.
Soft footsteps returned.
Fayne stepped back out, cardigan replaced with a light apron tied neatly at her waist. Same sweater underneath. Hair tucked slightly behind one ear now.
She carried two mugs.
Coffee for him.
Tea for herself.
She set his down carefully.
"Thank you," he said.
She nodded once and leaned lightly against the counter rather than sitting across from him.
He took a sip.
Hot.
Strong, grounding.
"So," he said lightly, "what's your name?"
"Fayne."
He blinked.
"…Fayne?"
She looked at him curiously.
"Yes."
He stared at her for half a second longer than necessary.
Then a small, disbelieving breath escaped him.
"You're kidding."
Her brows drew together slightly.
He shook his head once.
"The world's small."
She didn't follow.
He leaned back slightly.
"Raxian."
Her posture changed almost imperceptibly.
Not dramatic.
Just… stiller.
"…You know him?"
"Unfortunately," Raze replied dryly.
That earned the faintest reaction — not quite a smile, but close.
"I'm Raze," he added. "He's mentioned you."
Silence.
Not uncomfortable.
Just cautious.
He watched the way her fingers tightened slightly around her teacup.
"I know," he said gently, tone shifting.
"Based on what he's told me… you two never really clicked."
Her gaze dropped briefly to the steam rising from her tea.
"No," she said quietly.
He studied her for a moment.
"He's never said anything bad."
That wasn't entirely precise — Raxian had been dismissive, maybe careless — but never cruel.
"He just…" Raze searched for the word. "Didn't understand you."
That seemed to land somewhere.
She nodded faintly.
"I know."
There was no bitterness in it.
Just acceptance.
He found that more unsettling than anger would have been.
"He's been weird lately," she said after a moment.
Ah.
So she sees it too.
Raze exhaled lightly.
"Yeah."
That was answer enough.
They stood in that shared understanding for a few seconds.
Two observers of the same boy.
The bell above the door chimed again.
A customer stepped inside.
Mid-thirties.
Looking rushed.
Fayne straightened immediately.
Professional, present.
Raze glanced at the clock on the wall.
Morning had properly begun.
He set the mug down carefully.
"Guess that's my cue."
She nodded.
"Thank you for the coffee."
"You're welcome."
He stepped toward the door.
Paused.
"You were right, by the way."
She tilted her head slightly.
"You didn't look dangerous," she clarified.
He huffed softly.
"Still don't."
A faint, almost invisible smile touched her mouth.
"Take care," she said.
"You too."
The bell chimed again as he stepped back into the morning.
Sun higher now.
Head clearer.
World still heavy.
But… aligned, somehow.
He walked home this time.
On purpose.
-
The classroom smelled faintly of paint thinner and charcoal dust.
Late morning light spilled across half-finished canvases.
Raze stood in front of his easel again.
Same painting.
Different headspace.
His strokes were steadier today.
More intentional, less drifting.
"You alive?"
Noah's voice came from behind him.
Raze didn't turn immediately.
"Last I checked."
Noah stepped closer, lowering his voice slightly.
"Hey. About last night."
Raze paused mid-stroke.
"What about it?"
"I dipped early."
"You always dip early."
Noah ignored that.
"Did you get home okay?"
There it was, the checking in.
Raze set the brush down slowly.
Turned just enough to look at him.
"Yeah."
A beat.
"I walked."
Noah studied him.
Too long.
They both knew that look.
The are you sure? look.
Raze held it.
Didn't blink.
Noah exhaled through his nose lightly.
"…Alright."
He nodded once.
Didn't push, didn't call it out.
Just accepted the lie.
Which somehow felt worse.
"You're cutting down, right?" Noah added casually, almost as an afterthought.
"Yeah."
Another lie.
Softer this time.
Noah clapped his shoulder lightly.
"Good."
Then he stepped away.
Conversation over.
Raze stared at his canvas again.
Turquoise bleeding into warm gold.
Pattern in the static.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
He didn't check it.
Not yet.