I brought cookies.

The international group was in the middle of walking: conversations, half-laughter. Busy energy.

That boy.

Pink buzzcut. Grey hoodie on, zipped halfway like he wasn't sure if he was cold or trying to look cool. Baggy sweatpants, silver chain glinting when he shifted. He lit up the moment I looked at him. We chatted for a while.

Then I handed him a bag of cookies.
"Share these with the others."

He didn't move. Just gave me a look - like I'd just handed him something too personal to give away. He didn't want to share the cookies. Then he leaned in, nudging his head into my shoulder, grinning like a brat. The kind of affection that borders on possession. Joking. Flirty. Too close.

I laughed.
"I have a friend who looks just like you. German guy. Might be on the same campus."

That got everyone's attention.
Suddenly they wanted to see.

So I took them.

We went through the campus, a long walk. Finally, we reach a classroom in which the light is still on.

The other group was arguing - over grades, solutions, who carried who on a project. Loud and sharp, but familiar. The kind of noise that builds when people actually care.

I pointed casually.
"Guess who."

They looked. Immediately knew who is the one I was talking about.

There he was.
Buzzcut, but green hair this time. Same build, and the same tired drawl in his posture. Darker skin. Deeper silence. White tank top, sweatpants, silver chain. His hoodie was tied neatly around his waist.

Pink had the energy. But this one - this one had weight.
We used to date. Things ended quietly. Cleanly. Still friends, technically.

He saw me. Walked over. No hesitation.

Behind me, I heard the sound.
Thud.
A fist slammed into the wall.

I turned.
Pink had left a dent in the plaster - right next to the German guy's team achievement board.

First place: Green's team.
Second: Pink's.
Third: another team I know.

I smirked.

Then looked at Green.
"I know someone who looks just like you," I teased.

He saw a pink buzzcut across the room. His face hardened.

"Funny how I prayed for all three teams to win, and then they all won," I added, casually.

He mumbled.
"Well. They did."

I offered him a bag of cookies.
"Share these with the others."

He didn't.
Instead, he spat inside the bag. Quietly. Deliberately. His eyes were on mine the whole time. I don't know if the look was joking or provoking.

I raised an eyebrow.
Unbothered. Then pulled out another box - crispy-edged sponge cookies - and called the others to come eat.

We talked for a while. He rubbed the edge of my sleeve while he talked, like his fingers were searching for something soft to stay grounded.
I smile at him. I reached out, and ran my hand through his hair.

Then I left.

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23.03.2025