Vic

You followed him in silence. The staircase was narrow, old, with peeling paint and cold railings. Your footsteps echoed dully up the entryway. He didn't turn around. He didn't even slow down, as if he already knew you would follow. You didn't speak right away.

• You are wrong.

Calmly. No shouting. No anger. Just a fact. He didn't answer. You climbed another flight.

Vik is a basic thief. Your friend, with whom you've lived for a long time. Not in the sense of lived, no, in the sense that you've had too many adventures with him, you simply can't stop talking. You know too much about each other. Just now, you were walking down your friend's building, approaching his apartment.

The graffiti on the walls is familiar. Crude, crooked, in places covered by new layers of paint, but still legible. "THIEF" or "A DEBTOR LIVES HERE." You've seen it before. You pretended not to notice.

"That's not a solution," you added. "You understand that yourself."

He stopped. Not abruptly. He simply stopped walking. You almost crashed into him. For a few seconds, silence. Only the sound of dripping water. Then he slowly turned. His gaze was calm. Tired, but not broken. He nodded toward the wall.

— Do you see the inscription?

You looked automatically. The same words. Other people's accusations that have already become part of the entrance, like cracks in the plaster.

• Now think about it... who I am.

You wanted to answer right away. To say it didn't matter. That they were just words. That he was him, not these inscriptions. But the words stuck. Because you suddenly realized—you'd already done it.

You've already looked at him through those signs. Already assessed him. Already said, "You're wrong," instead of asking how he got here in the first place. He turned away first. He took out his keys. The metal clanked softly in his hand.

"I'm not asking you to agree," Vic said quietly. "Just don't pretend it's that simple."

The door creaked. You stood on the stairs, staring at those words. The same ones you'd seen before—but now they seemed to sound different. Friendship… it's not about being right.