Aarvin walked toward the old basketball court, hands tucked inside his hoodie, heart beating far faster than the situation demanded. He didn't know why she wanted him there. He didn't know what he was supposed to say, or how he was supposed to act.
But he still went.
Because it was her.
Because it was Nairi.
The court was almost empty—just cracked concrete, drifting leaves, and a single girl sitting on the dusty bench, swinging her legs gently. The fading sunlight wrapped around her like a soft outline, turning the deserted court into something warmer than it had ever been.
She looked up before he could turn away.
"There you are," she said, smiling like she'd been waiting longer than she'd ever admit.
Something tight inside Aarvin loosened. He pushed his hands deeper into his pockets.
"You came," she added softly.
Aarvin nodded. "Yeah… I said I would."
Nairi hopped off the bench, dusting her hands on her jeans. "So… you like coming here, right?" she asked, trying to sound casual but not quite pulling it off.
"It's quiet," Aarvin murmured.
"Then we're the same."
She grinned—light, honest. "I hate crowded places. Too noisy. Too dramatic."
Aarvin risked a tiny smile. "You're not dramatic."
"Oh, trust me," she said with raised eyebrows. "With the wrong people, I can be."
Aarvin blinked. Confused.
"With the right people," she added quietly, "I'm just… quiet."
Her eyes held his for a heartbeat longer than usual. And suddenly, the warmth in his chest sharpened into something impossible to ignore.
She was talking about him.
They walked slowly across the cracked concrete, fallen leaves whispering around their shoes. Nairi kicked a pebble forward, hands tucked behind her back.
"You play that game seriously, huh?" she asked.
"It helps me think," Aarvin said.
"Or helps you avoid thinking?" Her tone was light, but her eyes weren't.
He looked down. She wasn't wrong—and she'd figured it out instantly.
Nairi returned to the bench and patted the spot beside her. Aarvin hesitated only a moment before sitting. The metal creaked softly, and a quiet, warm stillness settled between them.
"You know," she said gently, "you're easier to talk to than I thought."
Aarvin blinked. "Me?"
She nudged his shoulder lightly.
"Yes, you. You listen. That's rare."
He didn't know what to do with the compliment. Most people called him scary, weak, quiet, strange, dangerous—always something heavy.
But the way she looked at him…
he wasn't a Hale.
He wasn't a warning.
He was just him.
Someone she wanted to talk to.
Nairi pulled her knees up slightly and wrapped her arms around them, gaze drifting across the open court.
"You ever notice how places feel different depending on who you're with?" she asked.
Aarvin shook his head slowly. "I never really had… people."
Her expression softened instantly.
"Well," she said, voice barely above a whisper, "you do now."
Aarvin's breath caught. He didn't know how to respond. He didn't know how to accept something so simple yet so life-changing.
For the first time in Oakridge… a place didn't feel heavy.
For the first time… he didn't feel alone.
He wasn't ready for the feeling—not even close.
But for once, he didn't want it to disappear.
Not now.
Not with her.
**To be continued…