The city stretched before them—a maze of neon reflections and quiet corners, where memories lingered in the glow of streetlights and the hum of distant voices.
Jay trotted ahead, ears twitching at every distant sound, tail flicking in lazy contentment. He moved with the easy confidence of a creature who had walked these streets countless times, who knew every turn, every familiar scent, every rustling whisper carried by the wind.
Elyse walked just behind him, hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket, her footsteps light, unhurried. A quiet tune hummed from her lips, blending into the city's rhythm. Every now and then, she glanced back, an amused smile tugging at her lips, as if she knew something the others did not.
Arnon followed at a steady pace, gaze forward, unwavering. He moved like he always did—calm, deliberate, as if he belonged to the world but was never entirely part of it. His presence was an anchor, solid and steady, grounding those around him without ever saying a word.
And then there was Jason.
Jason, who walked beside Arnon, hands shoved into his pockets, scanning the streets with restless eyes. The vendors, the flickering neon, the shifting figures moving through the night—it was all familiar. And yet, something felt off. A weight in his chest. A whisper at the edge of his mind.
Something was slipping.
For days now, his strength had felt different—distant, sluggish in a way that was almost imperceptible but undeniable. It wasn't weakness, not exactly. More like something fading just beyond his reach.
And the only thing that had changed was—
"You're thinking too hard again," Arnon muttered.
Jason smirked, shaking the thought away. "You're thinking too little."
Arnon scoffed but didn't argue. They both knew the truth. Jason's mind was a storm of tangled possibilities, futures unwritten. And Arnon—Arnon was the quiet force keeping him from unraveling completely.
They stopped at a familiar street corner, where the best coffee in the city was brewed in a tiny, dimly lit shop only the locals seemed to know about. They didn't go in. Just stood there, letting the scent of roasted beans and warm pastries settle around them.
"Last time," Elyse said, stretching her arms. "After this, no more spontaneous coffee runs."
Jason wrinkled his nose. "Sounds awful."
Arnon shot him a sidelong glance. "You'll live."
They moved on. Past the bookstore where Jason had spent too many hours lost in pages. Past the quiet alley where Arnon had once broken three ribs in a fight he refused to talk about. Past the tiny park where Elyse used to sit with Jay when she needed to clear her mind.
Then—impact.
A sudden, unexpected collision.
Jason barely registered the moment before he stumbled back a step, steadying himself. Arnon reacted instantly, his arm moving in front of Elyse, protective even in the smallest of moments.
The man who had bumped into them hardly faltered. He moved briskly, as though he had somewhere urgent to be, his hoodie pulled up, his mask slightly undone for the briefest of moments—just long enough for Jason to catch a glimpse.
A sharp jawline. Intense eyes. A face that felt strangely magnetic, familiar in a way he couldn't place.
"Sorry about that," the man muttered, voice smooth but rushed.
Jason blinked. "Uh—no problem."
Arnon studied him, gaze sharp but unreadable.
The man adjusted his mask, gave a short nod, and disappeared into the crowd like a shadow vanishing into twilight.
For a moment, they stood there, a strange ripple of unease left in his wake.
Jay let out a quiet huff, sensing the tension before anyone else.
"Well," Elyse exhaled. "That was weird."
Jason chuckled, shaking off the feeling. "Yeah. You sure you didn't offend some mysterious masked stranger recently, Arnon?"
Arnon rolled his eyes. "If I had, I doubt he'd just bump into you and leave."
Jason ran a hand through his hair, fingers brushing against his scalp—and realized something. Something simple.
He had gotten a haircut.
---
By the time the evening stretched into late hours, the streets had quieted. The sky was a deep navy, the air crisp with the promise of night. Their steps were slower now, the weight of their departure settling over them.beside them was a small forest like area and beside which was a park.
Then Jason saw them.
A couple beneath a large oak tree, bathed in the glow of a nearby streetlamp. The woman rested her head against the man's shoulder, fingers idly brushing against the baby stroller beside them. The man murmured something, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
There was something so effortlessly peaceful about it that Jason found himself... stuck.
He glanced at Arnon.
Arnon had noticed, too. Something flickered across his face—quick, fleeting, unspoken.
Jason smirked.
"You know, this reminds me of something," he mused. "Oh, what was it again? Ah, right. That poem you wrote."
Arnon's expression didn't change, but Jason caught the slight tension in his jaw.
Grinning, Jason pressed on. "What was it? 'Wandering from one face to another for years... my eyes yearn to rest on a face that feels like home.'"
Arnon let out a long, suffering sigh. "Jason—"
"So poetic. So deep." Jason clutched his chest dramatically. "Were you secretly a romance writer in another life?"
"Jason."
"Because I think this couple right here? They are definitely your inspiration. Don't even try to deny it."
Elyse snorted. Even Jay gave what sounded suspiciously like a dog's version of a laugh.
Arnon stared ahead, resigned to his fate.
Jason nudged him. "Come on. Admit it. You've got a soft side."
Arnon finally met his gaze, deadpan. "If I throw you into the river, will your 'potential' let you swim?"
Jason grinned. "Only one way to find out."
Elyse rolled her eyes. "At this rate, I might be the one to throw you both in."
Jason shot her a dramatic look. "Et tu, Elyse?"
"Just saying."
Jay barked once, tail wagging, as if weighing in on the debate.
Jason sighed. "Betrayed by my own team."
"You'll live," Arnon echoed, smirking now.
The café smelled of espresso, burnt toast, and the faintest hint of cleaning chemicals—a mix of warmth and barely concealed disarray.
Jason slouched at the table, rubbing his jaw absentmindedly. Across from him, Arnon leaned back, arms crossed, his smirk practically glued in place. Elyse sat beside Jason, stirring her coffee with practiced ease, her sharp gaze missing nothing.
Under the table, Jay lay curled up, looking relaxed—but Jason knew better. The dog was always listening.
Elyse sat there recollecting her preparation work.
Arnon said 'you got all the intelligence genes".
Jason was about to fire back when Jay's ears perked up.
Then—a bang.
Distant. Muffled. Sharp.
The conversation died. Jason's hand froze mid-motion. Arnon's smirk vanished. Elyse's cup hovered just above the table.
Jay lifted his head, his body going stiff. His ears twitched, his muscles tensed—he'd heard it first.
For a beat, no one spoke. Then Arnon cleared his throat. "Well, that wasn't ominous."
Jason's stomach twisted. His gut told him it wasn't nothing.
Elyse, however, barely reacted. She set her cup down and shrugged. "Car backfiring."
Arnon nodded. "Yeah, or construction."
Jason frowned. "That didn't sound like—"
"A really loud hammer," Arnon added. "Maybe some guy got excited about home improvement."
Jason wasn't convinced. Jay let out a low, uncertain whine, shifting uneasily.
Elyse rolled her eyes. "Great. Now even the dog's paranoid."
Jason glanced at Jay. The dog wasn't barking, but he wasn't settling either. He was waiting, listening.
Arnon smirked, leaning in. "Jason, if you start sniffing the air for floral gunpowder, I'm leaving."
Jason gave him a flat look. "You're a real asset to this team."
"I try."
The silence stretched. No screams. No running footsteps. The café remained exactly as it was—warm, familiar, oblivious.
Elyse sighed, tapping her nails against her cup. "Look, if something was actually happening, we'd know by now. People panic fast."
Jason exhaled. Maybe they were overthinking it.