The walk home felt longer than usual.
Ciro replayed the conversation with Csepel over and over, each sentence sounding different in his head.
"I'd listen."
Nobody had ever said that before.
atleast meant it?
He shook the thought away.
By the time he reached his street, the sky had turned a dull gray. Most of the houses had porch lights glowing this evening.
His didn't.
The front yard was overgrown, weeds poking through cracked concrete. One shutter hung crooked against the side of the house, tapping softly in the wind.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Ciro stopped.
The rhythm sounded...
Familiar.
His stomach tightened.
The wind died.
The shutter stopped moving.
"...Get a grip," he muttered.
He climbed the porch steps anyway.
The front door creeked as he pushed it open.
The house smelled like stale cigarettes and old coffee.
No voices.
No television.
Just silence.
For a second, relief settled over him.
His dad wasn't home.
Or maybe he was asleep.
Either way, the house was peaceful.
Ciro slipped off his shoes and headed toward the stairs.
Halfway up...
Creak.
He froze.
The sound came from upstairs.
Slow.
Heavy.
Like someone had shifted their weight.
"Dad?"
Nothing.
He waited.
The hallway remained still.
After a long moment, he forced himself to keep climbing.
One step.
Then another.
His bedroom door stood exactly where he'd left it.
Closed.
He reached for the knob.
Something caught his eye.
A piece of paper had been slipped halfway underneath the door.
His heartbeat quickened.
He bent down and pulled it free.
Blank.
Both sides.
"..."
He frowned.
Maybe it had slid out of one of his notebooks.
Maybe.
He opened his bedroom door.
The window was open.
He was certain he'd locked it that morning.
Cold air drifted through the room, carrying the faint scent of rain.
As he crossed to close it, something brushed the back of his neck.
Like fingertips.
Ciro spun around.
Nothing.
His room was empty.
His backpack slipped from his shoulder, landing on the floor with a dull thud.
He stood there, chest rising and falling.
Slowly...
His hand found the tattoo beneath his sleeve.
His thumb traced the first character.
Then the second.
Brave.
Outside, thunder rolled in the distance.
The window rattled once.
Then everything was quiet again.