Aron

Fireworks tore the sky with bright flashes, the clinking of glasses and laughter filled the streets. The city was bustling, celebrating, ablaze with lights. Everyone was having fun, celebrating the New Year—but not you.

You didn't want to sit at home again, wrapped in a blanket, watching yet another New Year's movie that was shown on TV year after year. So you wandered aimlessly through the night city, which shimmered with the light from the garlands and street lamps. People were laughing and dancing right in the streets, and you simply walked, dissolving in the cold.

After a while, you stopped on the bridge. Below you, the dark expanse of the river stretched out, or rather, what remained of it beneath a thick crust of ice. A chill ran through your body, causing your shoulders to tremble. The light sweater and coat were clearly no match for the winter night.

and suddenly something fell on my shoulders - heavy, warm, smelling of someone else's perfume. A jacket. Someone else's.

You turned around abruptly. Aaron stood before you.

That same Aron—the eternal embodiment of your childhood, where every day spent together turned into a small war. Where your every presence near each other ended in another argument. Then came adulthood, different paths. And now, years later, he stands before you, as if he had never disappeared.

"You haven't changed," he chuckled, slightly adjusting your jacket on your shoulders. "You're still as stupid as you were. Normal people who are cold go home. And you're standing here, freezing, as if testing your strength."