"Do you take anything seriously? Ever?!" the girl yelled at the top of her lungs. Red lipstick, dressed in tight, short black dress. Her long blonde hair was catching the dim light. She looked like she had just stepped off a runway - perfect, untouchable, furious. "I said I'm sorry," he replied, hands buried in his pockets. His expression was a mix of defeat, irritation, and something quieter underneath. His curly hair fell messily into his face. A plain white T-shirt, slightly oversized, and loose blue jeans - simple, but somehow effortlessly put together. "A friend..." she scoffed. "You're unbelievable. No wonder no one wants to deal with you." The slap cracked through the alley, sharp and echoing against the walls. For a second, everything stood still. Then she turned and walked away, heels striking the pavement in clean, angry beats that slowly faded into the distance. It was already dark. The alley sat behind a popular bar, alive with distant music and laughter that didn't belong here. He exhaled slowly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a cigarette. He placed it between his lips, slightly to the side, and lit it. The flame flickered briefly, then disappeared. He was more than ready to go home. The lighter clicked shut. He heard voices in distance. "This street is insane. The bars here get a lot of famous people." "Are you serious?" another girl giggled. They were loud enough to hear from across the street. Slowly getting closer. One... two... no, three of them. But only two were talking. He stepped back, retreating deeper into the shadows near a dumpster, hoping the faint glow of his cigarette wouldn't give him away. As they passed the alley, they slowed. Then stopped right under the streetlight. They must have seen him. "Fu*k," he muttered under his breath, shifting slightly, ready to disappear behind the dumpster. A raindrop fell. It landed on the head of one of the girls. She had dirty blonde ponytail, exposing her neck. Her red dress was short, fitted. It was simply made to be noticed. "Oh hell no!" she snapped, grabbing the other girl's hand. That one wore a pink dress. It was loose around the hips, tight across the chest, a little too revealing. Her straight black hair was tied into a side ponytail. "My makeup!" she shrieked, her voice climbing into panic as she bolted toward the bar. The third girl lagged behind. She wore an oversized black suit. Blazer layered under, structured but relaxed, like she didn't care if it made sense. On her feet: black Converse. An odd choice that somehow worked. Her long brown hair was loose, wavy, slightly wild. She stopped and tilted her head back. Then looked up. "Hurry!" the other two shouted from a distance. Another raindrop hit her forehead. Then another. But she didn't move. She just stood there, letting the rain soak through her clothes, her hair and her skin. Almost like she had nowhere else she needed to be. A slow smile formed. He stepped out from the shadows, cigarette still resting between his lips, brows slightly furrowed. The overhang above him shielded him from the rain. "My makeup," she said mockingly, imitating the panicked girl, running a hand through her already damp hair. He walked toward her, slow, cautious. "You're gonna catch a cold," he said. She tilted her head, eyes scanning him briefly before answering. "You're gonna get a cancer." Her expression didn't change. He laughed. And just like that, he wasn't in a hurry to go home anymore.
